


Bound by Stardust

by Cicadaemon



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Actual Gods not Isu, I Picked the Pieces of Canon I Like and Throw the Rest Away into Tartarus, Implied Relationships, Multi, Mutual Pining, Myth Accurate Hades and Persephone, Not Canon Compliant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2020-07-29 04:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20076250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicadaemon/pseuds/Cicadaemon
Summary: Nearly a year has passed by since the battle on the beaches of Amphipolis and yet Kassandra is still haunted by Brasidas' death. Nevertheless, she tries to move on. Then, in an odd turn of events, Kassandra finds herself in the Court of the Khthonioi Queen and King. And to Brasidas.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so angry at the DLC considering how much I love the myth of Persephone and Hades. So uhhhh fuck canon I'm going to do my own thing.

The last several years had haunted her. If asked by her _mater,_ she’d say it was the long hunt to find her again, not knowing if the Cult got there first. If by Barnabas, she’d say being at the mercy of fates she could not prevent. If, by some odd chance Stentor would ask, she’d say it was the fear of knowing once her family was together again, she’d have to count him a part of it.

When Alexios asked her, one fateful day, what was eating at her, Kassandra could not hold back the truest answer.

“I watched so many people die. I killed without regret, but I let so many people I’d regret to lose go.”

They had been travelling by that point, both suffocated by the air of Sparta. She had brought him all the way to Phokis. She wanted to bring him to the Pythia, but along the way, they had heard whispers of a doctor who had connections to the Pythia who also needed help. The mention of the Pythia was enough to spark interest, but first, they had settled on a quick hunt. A quick hunt had become a solemn talk by the Temple of Artemis.

Alexios did not respond quickly to her answer. _Mater_ had given her a hug, Barnabas had shared his wisdom and Stentor had tried to give her a quick punch before being thawed by their observing _pater_, but she had never known silence.

It should have unnerved her, made her wary. Some days Alexios was hard to read. He may have thrown away his torment and come back home, but Deimos still laid within him. A few months of love and care could never undo the years of torture he had suffered. Kassandra had never been one to watch her words till they had been reunited. She wondered, in that silence, if she had upset him.

“I suppose I am to blame for a few of those deaths.” He said after what felt like an eternity. “I can’t remember the faces of those I killed, but I feel them. I’m sorry if I've hurt you.”

Kassandra could not say with a clear conscience that he hadn't hurt her. For the most part, he hadn't, but he still was the one who had driven a spear through a man's head before her. She couldn't say that though. Alexios had been a glorified weapon and a tortured slave. His actions had barely been his own.

“Only one.” She didn’t dare say his name. “But you couldn’t have known. It was during the battle and so many fall then.”

I don’t blame you were the words she wanted to say but bit them back. Braisdas’ death was the one that haunted her the most. Most nights she would awake, seeing his head impaled on his own spear. In the months that had passed since his death, Kassandra hadn’t found much peace. So many things had been left unsaid, and she felt incomplete. Phoibe’s death had been like a dagger to the heart that still ached her, but Brasidas had left her empty.

That conversation had ended there.

The rumours of the doctor had proven true. He was a young man with a warm face and sad eyes. She had watched with amusement how Alexios had turned red when the man had shaken hands with him. Amusement did not last when they learned that his grandmother had been responsible for their fall, and Kassandra had half expected Alexios to lose his head. Instead, after a tango with kidnapping bandits and the plan for assassination, he had convinced the poor man to spare the old Pythia. If it had just been Kassandra, she would have let the doctor kill the wretched woman.

He had shocked her when he wrapped his arms around Lykaon and let him sob into his shoulder. At the doctor's insistence, once his tears had dried up, they stayed the night at his home, enjoying warm food and sharing stories of their adventures. She felt content as she held them both in rapture over a story about the Mykonos Rebellion. The next morning, Alexios had shocked her again.

"I'm going to stay here." Kassandra had nearly dropped her quivers when she heard those words. If she hadn't watched his mouth as he uttered them, she wouldn't have believed they came from him. While she was nearly armoured up, Alexios was only in his chiton.

“Never expected you to have a soft spot for doctors.” She had teased after a moment, still shocked. “Remind me to keep you from Hippokrates.”

Kassandra got no laugh from him.

“It’s not that.” The blush on his face said otherwise. “Just…. I’m needed here for now. I need to be here. Go to Delphi without me or not. We will meet later.”

She had given him the tightest hug she could muster when it was time to leave. 

They had settled on Athens as their meeting point in that moment, as she promised to show him the city proper. She waved goodbye to him and found it hard to turn her back. Alexios had been by her side for nearly every moment since their reunion and he had filled the empty spot that someone had left behind. Now she had silence once more.

No time had been wasted Pythia and Kassandra had instead gone straight for Athens.

Athens held hard memories, but it also held friends that she had dearly missed. It had served as a home of sorts for a few weeks. If there was one thing Kassandra needed, it was a home. Sparta could never serve that purpose again, but she could feign one in the bustling city. She walked along familiar roads and shortcuts through the forest when suddenly along the way, she decided that perhaps she wasn’t ready to go back. A home couldn't be made there without Alexios and Gods know what he was doing at that moment. A few days in the Chora might turn into more with the way he was looking at Lykaon. It might have also been the thought of one of Sokrates’ roundabout conversations that drove her away, but she couldn't admit that to herself. If she did, that damned philosopher would find out in the way he seemed to read her mind. So, she travelled to Eleusis instead, which she had seen once before but not in autumn. The thoughts of theoretical parties bidding Persephone away was enough to drive her there. And in Eleusis, she had heard another rumour, a little more strange than one about a doctor.

“-near where the temple to Pluton and Persephone. The entrance to the Underground.” One woman had whispered to another. It had piqued her interest just by the mention of one of the many names for Hades. Beyond curses, his name was never utter in fear of retribution. Rarely did she ever hear someone utter one of his alternative names.

“Strange lights? Are you sure it’s not just that Cult of Ares making home down there again?”

“I am more than sure. It was otherworldly. I ran away fearing he’d come galloping upon me.”

“Autumn is here now, the _Theoi Khthonioi _will stay put there for now.”

“That’s not how the stories go, Charis. Only Persephone will stay there, but you think that will stop one of the children of Nyx?”

She hadn’t cared for the rest of the conversation, as Kassandra’s mind was now fixed on the idea of these otherworldly lights. She was motivated by a few things. Drachmae, loyalty and curiosity.

Odd lights coming from the supposed site of the rapture of Kore poked at her curiosity. The suggestion of a Cult and the wealth she knew Cults brought was what won her over.

Once night had settled, she made her way to the spot. The temple mentioned was barely anything at all except a few icons and offerings laid beneath a poplar tree. She had been there before, clearing out the cult that the women had discussed earlier. The way down was just a quick jump and a swim. Simple. At the end of that simple way, she found nothing, but an empty cave. It was still as damp and filled with bodies as before, though now most of them had become skeletal. At least the smell wasn’t so bad. The banners to Ares still hung on the walls, though the areas that had been splattered in blood had crumbled away.

There seemed no point in rummaging around the cave, she had been through this before. Still, Kassandra wander about, finding a spare drachma behind some decimated pots. No odd lights, no _Khthonioi _coming to claim her soul. Nothing. A part of her had been hoping for something. If there had been no Cult of Ares and their horde of drachmae and weapons, then at least she would have liked to have seen some weird lights. Nothing supernatural could faze her at this point, not with the things she had seen. If Kassandra had come down here and had seen perhaps Thanatos mulling about she wouldn’t have been too surprised. He’d probably shake her hand for all the men and women she had sent to him. Maybe share a cup of watered wine with him.

It was then she had heard a cracking noise. It was like the noise lighting would sometimes make when out at sea. Crackling and powerful. For a moment she expected to hear Barnabas make a comment about Oh Powerful Zeus, it was that uncanny and specific in sound. From the corner of her eye, she saw it, the odd light. And then she didn’t see it. And she wasn’t in the cave anymore.

Wherever she was, it was dark. She commanded her arm to move outwards and before her eyes, but not only could she not see her extended limb, she was uncertain if she had even done it. She felt muted and as though she no longer inhabited her body. And yet, she felt hyper-aware. Whispering in her ears that drove her skin to itch. Kassandra couldn’t make them out and yet she understood every word. Understanding these words meant nothing as the second she heard them they no longer made sense. It was maddening.

Then the darkness broke. The whispering stopped. And before her was before a river larger than any river she had ever seen before. And in that river was a boat. A faint glow came from the river, like a lantern.

She stepped towards it, unable to believe what she saw before her. Before Kassandra could even move close enough to hope in, a figure rose up. She couldn't make out much of it, as it was cloaked in a fabric as black as the darkness that had surrounded her before. She saw a flash of maybe a hand as it spoke, it's voice smooth and oddly entrancing.

“Not every day we get one of the actual living among us. Step in and give me the drachma you found.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Who are you?” Kassandra stepped forward cautiously. Slowly, she reached for her spear but found nothing. She whipped around, expecting to see someone with it in hand or some sort of explanation, but there was nothing. For the first time, she really took in her surroundings. Above and before her was a wall of rock, grey and monotone. It took her a moment to realize there was no colour at all. Looking down to her hands, it was completely desaturated.

“There are many names for who I am.” The man responded. She turned back to look at him, the only source of colour being the glow of the lantern that fell upon him. “Most call me the Ferryman of the Dead, though I have no time for such a title. Ferry the dead is what I do, but I am no man. You may call me Kharon, Child of Nyx and Erebos. I will take that drachma now.”

“This can’t be real.” All her life she had little faith in the Gods. For the mercy of those around her, Kassandra had not openly declared his atheistic outlook beyond cynicism, but in her heart, she had never believed the Gods to be real. To her, their names had been just stories to tell and to use to justify evil.

“It is all very real, Kassandra of Sparta. I will not be the only daimon you will meet here, so get over your surprise and hop into the boat. You are expected, and one does not keep the Lord of the Dead waiting.” He extended a hand towards her, pale, but otherwise youthful in appearance. Kharon almost seemed to be made of marble.

She didn’t take his hand, but stepped forward, nonetheless. Stepping into the boat, she had expected it to wobble with the new weight added, but it remained still. She looked back out across the river, making out little lights across the way.

“This is the River Styx then?” She asked the Ferry. Though his face was hidden, Kassandra could tell he was smiling.

“No. This is Akheron. In all it’s glory.” He extended his hand again. “Now for your payment.”

She reached for her coin purse and felt only one coin within it. She looked down in surprise, knowing she had gone into the cave with a fairly full purse and saw, in the glow of the lantern, the colour of her skin and armour had returned. She looked back up to Kharon, hoping for an explanation, but he waved his hand impatiently. Taking the single coin out, she placed it into his hand, brushing the skin of his palm briefly. She had expected him to be cold, but there was a warmth that radiated off of him.

“Sit down, and we shall go.” He tucked the coin away into the many layers of clothes he wore. The boat moved forward, without any movement from him, as though it was gliding.

Kassandra still couldn’t comprehend where she was or how she got there, trying to rationalize that she had hit her head and it was all an elaborate dream. Yet, it all felt so real. She took to pinching the flesh between her thumb and index finger, with the pain telling her this was not a dream. The landscape before her was so dreamlike though. Besides the little flickering lights across the impossibly wide River Akheron, the world was desaturated and bleak. It was like when she had sailed to Heraklion from Thera. The smoke from the volcanic islands carried far and through it, she had seen the fishing village. The warm glow of the lights in that dark night had filled her chest with something warm and inviting.

After a moment, Kassandra looked upwards and gasped at the sight. She had expected darkness, and nothing more. Before her, however, were faint stellar lights. But they couldn’t have been stars. The Realm of Hades was supposed to be dark, damp and mouldy if the storytellers were to be believed. And yet there was a distinct sky, but not one she was familiar with.

“Zeus has the sky and all its elements, Poseidon has his seas and ruthless waves.” Kharon’s voice nearly made her jump. “And Hades has the ground and all it holds. The sky you see is a product of that.”

“They’re not stars?”

“Not your stars.”

She looked back up to them again. Product of the ground? “Are they stones?”

“Almost.”

Kassandra looked to him, annoyed. If she thought to speak with Sokrates was a frustrating endeavour, somehow this daimon was worse.

“When you spend so many millennials being questioned by Shades, you learn how to get people to stop asking questions.” He laughed.

“So, you can read minds too?” She didn’t like that. A mind was supposed to stay private.

“No, but I am good at reading people.”

The rest of the ride remained silent, no sound of lapping water to fill the silence. As they neared the shore, the colour seemed to seep back into the land. It was still dark, but in the dark, there were so many different hues. It was black still, but in the black there were hints of greens, blues, reds and so on. But it still seemed black. Her mind twisted trying to comprehend while her breath was whisked away; it was beautiful beyond words.

“Step forward, Eagle-Bearer and you shall meet a great king and an even greater judge,” Kharon said as the boat hit the shore. “We shall meet again.”

She got off the boat, stones crunching under her sandals. Kassandra looked before her and saw columns before a doorway in the rocks. She turned to ask Kharon if that was the way to go, but he was gone. She walked towards this entrance, not so sure of herself, and yet at ease. Normally, when she had no weapons on her, she felt skittish and uneased. A _misthos _without a weapon was no _misthos _at all let alone a live one. But she wasn’t afraid. There felt to be no threat in this world.

Just before she walked into the door, a man stepped forward from the darkness. Kassandra stepped back and reached yet again for her spear, and she finally felt unease when she realized it still wasn’t there. The man smiled at her.

“Do not worry, Eagle-Bearer.” His voice was oddly accented, though still familiarly Greek. “I am here to bring you before my King.”

She gave the man a once over. He was dressed in a fine chiton of the darkest blue she had ever seen. The detailing was extraordinary, even for someone who cared not for fashion. His chlamys was also made of a dark fabric with intricate detailing. He was dressed like royalty. His hair was short and unbelievably white.

“Are you the king Kharon mentioned I’d meet?” He looked like he’d be a king.

“Not anymore.” His voice was kind and soft. “I judge and hold the key to the Underworld. You may know me as Aiakos, former King to Aegina and Judge of the Men and Woman of Europe.”

“I’ve heard of you.” Kassandra did not expect him to look like he did. Any reliefs she had seen of the great king had him as imposing and greatly aged, but he looked like any kind of fisherman you might find on the docks. “Grandfather to Ajax and Achilles. You were made a Judge for bringing law and order to Greece.”

His smile grew brighter. “That I was. I am glad to know that I am still remembered. If forgotten, I wouldn’t mind. My mortal life means next to nothing to me now but being remembered does bring a happy feeling with it.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help.”

He extended his arm towards the entrance and flicked his hand up making all the torches along the walls light up. It wasn’t a cave as she had expected, but a sculpted-out passage. “On and inwards, Kassandra. I shall follow behind you.”

“Do you greet all the people who come to this shore?” She asked as she stepped into the passage. She found herself again amazed at the beauty. Along the walls were murals in splendid colours.

“Not all of them, no. You are an unusual guest. We don’t ever get the living here. The last mortal to walk these halls was Orpheus, so many years ago.” His voice grew sad at the mention of Orpheus. That story Kassandra knew very well.

“Can I ask another question.” She stopped and turned to him. “I wanted to ask Kharon, but he seemed impossible.”

He laughed at that. “Kharon’s job is a hard one. Those who have died come here with very little answers and so many questions. I suppose the game he makes out of it all is what keeps them sane. Please ask.”

“Why am I here?”

“Ah.” He looked away sheepishly. “We don’t know.”

Now it was her turn to laugh. “You don’t know? I thought the Gods knew all.”

“I’m sure the Olympians want you to believe that, but it is the truth. All of Hades felt your presence, and the Shades all cried out. Erebos had confirmed for us as he wrapped you in his shroud. No one knows, not even the great Nyx.” He sighed deeply. “Even we are at the mercy of the Fates. This is why you will meet Aidos and Persephone.”

“What?” It was one thing to meet a daimon and Judge of the Dead, but the thought of meeting the Rulers of the Dead was completely unbelievable. “As in Hades Kthionios and Persephone Praxidike? The God who slew the Titans and the Bringer of Death?”

“They are not like the stories you hear,” Aiakos said before walking forward. Kassandra followed. “He does not care to be called Hades. Hades is the land, not him. Persephone most likely will call him such in front of you as that is the title Shades know him by. Aidoneus would be better if you want him to like you. They are fair rulers and you mortals fear the wrong God. Our King is reasonable, but our Queen is the dealer of vengeance and curses.”

“I see.” Kassandra didn’t really understand. “I guess you can’t believe all the stories.”

“Those stories were told a thousand times over before being written down. You begin to lose meaning after a time.” They seemed to near the end of the passage. “Along these walls are the true story, though it is not the story of their marriage. Rather it is that of the Titanomachy and the beginning of the three sons of Kronos’ rule.”

“And there’s Prometheus giving us fire.” She pointed to the unmistakable story.

“History itself is on these walls.” Aiakos smiled looking upon them. “Maybe yours will appear one day. You have changed quite a bit of the course of history.”

She smiled at the thought of it. “I will not apologize for anything.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

They continued on until they entered into a great domed chamber. Kassandra stood at the entrance to it, amazed once again. She supposed she should get used to this feeling as all of Hades seemed so grand. The chamber was beautiful in words that she could not find. The walls and columns were made of dark marble, and the walls were decorated in murals as well. She could barely take it all in at once and barely noticed when Aiakos walked ahead of her to take a seat. The floor was even more gorgeous. In vibrant mosaics, it detailed the map of the Greek world.

“Step forward, Kassandra of Sparta, daughter of Myrrine and Nikolaos. Eagle-Bearer and Hero of the Peloponnesian War. Present yourself before the King and Queen of Hades.” A man spoke up. Kassandra had not noticed before, but Aiakos had sat next to two men, taking his spot between them. They had to be the Cretan brothers, Minos and Rhadamanthys, but she could not tell which was which. She turned her attention away from them and to the opposite side of where they sat.

On two thrones, sat the aforementioned King and Queen. Kassandra stepped forward until she was right before them. Looking down at her feet, she realized she was nearly stepping on the marker for Seriphos. Her mind wandered to Khloe, the little girl she had met on the island and wondered if she had been able to make actual friends.

Kassandra did not know what to expect when she gazed upon the Gods of the Underworld properly for the first time, but she had been, for the first time since she set foot in this realm, underwhelmed. If asked what she thought the Gods should look like, she’d say they’d have to at least look like their position. Ethereal, celestial, otherworldly. They couldn’t look like humans.

And yet they did. The closer she looked, Kassandra noticed that while, yes they did look like any person you’d pass by in Athens or Argos, they looked flawless. Any statutes she had seen of Persephone held a flame to her likeness. She was beautiful, with finely tanned, olive skin and thick russet hair done up in elaborate, intertwining braids. Hades was just as handsome as his wife. Pale in skin and dark in hair. She could expect beauty from the Goddess of Spring, but not from the God associated with Death. She supposed there was a logic for why they looked so close to the mortals. She had heard stories of Gods wandering among them in order to test their mettle. Maybe she had passed a God on the streets before.

“Kassandra,” Persephone spoke up, her voice cultured and accented. “I have heard so many things about you. Most good and honourable. When I expected to meet you, I knew that that Fates would be good for you, and you’d be able to rest in Elysium with others such as your grandfather. But you are too early.”

She stood up then and swept the skirts of her chiton aside. Kassandra then realized that her answer was being waited on. For a moment, she panicked, not knowing how exactly to speak to a Goddess.

“I… apologize, Great Persephone. I must be honest-“ She looked behind her to where Aiakos sat and then back to the Goddess. “-I am just as lost as you are. I only went to the cave to clear out some cultist and collect drachmae. I’m not even sure if I am awake.”

Persephone nodded, her expression becoming concerned. She then looked to her husband, who still was sat. “Hades, my light, have you ever heard of anything like this? In all my time ruling alongside you, I have never known a living mortal to come here without intention.”

Kassandra locked eyes with him and was suddenly overcome with this feeling that he could read every bit of her. That while Kharon could not read her thoughts, this man could. The corner of his mouth twitched as this thought crossed her mind. “I haven’t. The girl is telling the truth. And is smart too.”

“I am no girl.” Kassandra hissed but recoiled in horror at the impulse. Hades did not smile but appeared amused and Persephone gave a soft laugh.

“Pardon us, Eagle-Bearer.” Even his tone was amused. “All mortals are children to ageless ones. I mean no disrespect.”

Her heart was hammering away in her chest to the point where she could feel it in her throat. She swallowed down the feeling. “And I no disrespect to you… Lord Aidoneus.”

“Perhaps this is a doing of the Fates,” Persephone said as she walked down the dais. “Even us Gods are at the mercy of their will.”

“A solution to a problem, my Queen?” The one Cretan brother said. He wore his hair shorter than his brother, and she tried to remember if a story ever described the Cretan Brothers before.

“Hmm an interesting thought, Minos.” She circled around Kassandra. “Tell me, Kassandra of Sparta, how would you feel about doing something for us. This maybe your destiny. Or perhaps a gift from the Fates?”

“I don’t really believe in destiny or fate.” Kassandra could not keep a smile off her face once she was face to face with the Goddess. “But if I do something for you and I am able to go back home, I’ll be happy.”

Persephone’s face lit up. “I feel as though you will expect some sort of legendary quest to kill some beast or put an end to a tyrant-“

“-I’ve already done those things.” She pointed out. Persephone laughed at this.

“Yes, you have. We have seen many of the Cultists of the Kosmos enter this chamber and all have gotten suited punishments.”

“I pray most rest in Tartarus.”

“I’m afraid not,” Hades spoke up. “Only the worst go there, and while they are all vile for different reasons, only a few were beyond redemption. Most will stare into Pyriphlegethon until they understand and repent the weight of their sins. Then they may be sent to Asphodel or sent back again. All Shades must be reborn again, though there are exceptions.”

Kassandra frowned, angered by the thought. All of them had been irredeemable in her eyes, the men and women who had torn apart her family deserved the worst that could be given. She only hoped Chrysis at least rotting down there.

“She is. She came to this court pleading and saying she did no wrong, only what was made to do. Till she broke, of course, and confessed to all her sins.” He answered. “And you were correct. Except, my wife can also read your thoughts as well.”

“It is mandatory.” Persephone defended quickly when Kassandra shot her a look. “Not everyone who walks through these halls tells the truth. We read more the heart than the mind.”

“I see.” She wondered what her heart said of her. “What do you want me to do then? Send more souls to you?”

“No. I want you to convince someone.”

She couldn’t help but laugh heartedly at the thought. “I am sorry to disappoint, but diplomacy is not my strongest skill. Unless I have my spear to their throats or drachmae in my hands.”

“I disagree.” She placed her hand upon Kassandra’s shoulder. “You will know what you need to do when you meet him. Some people come here far too early, and while I have no pleasure in it, I... we must send them to Asphodel Fields to be reborn. And in order to do that, they must drink from the waters of Lethe. One cannot remember their past life if they wish to be reborn. That would cause chaos. This one refuses to, though explained why he must.”

“And you could not force him to?”

She shrugged. “I am not my father; I want mortals to have the choice. This is my kingdom and I do not want to be feared, but respected. He is not the first to refuse and he will not be the last. The only way is to let the person have time.”

“So, you want me to convince this man to drink from Lethe?” While this task felt straight forward, she had a feeling it was going to be difficult. As was her luck.

“That is for you to decide. I leave his fate to you.” Persephone removed her hand and gave her a once over. Suddenly her back felt heavy again with a familiar weight. “You have been given your weapons once more, though I doubt you will need them. In return for this task, we shall grant you the one thing you desire.”

Persephone looked back to her husband, who then stood up. “And what shall that be, your majesty? I desire many things.”

“One soul of your choosing,” Hades responded.

One soul. The thought of it was overwhelming. Who would she bring back out of all the people she had lost. Her heart was divided into two. She had lost Phoibe and had desired her back within the moment she help her corpse. Brasidas had followed so quickly afterwards and she had not the comfort of holding him in her arms when he went. There were others too, people she had known as she grew up, or friends she had made in her travels. She could ask for Perikles back, who would surely bring good to the world.

“Under one condition of course,” Persephone said quickly. “Phoibe of Kephallonia cannot be chosen.”

“What!?” In the end, it would have been her choice to choose Phoibe. She knew this despite her mulling it about. Phoibe had been more than a friend, but family. A little sister who she had loved so dearly. To know that was the one person she could not choose, it broke her heart. “Why?”

Hades stepped down from the dais and stood before her as well. “As my wife said, those would go to the Fields go to be reborn. They drink the waters, forget their life and move on. Your Phoibe has already done that.”

While disappointed, she couldn’t say she was upset. In fact, the thought brought her a sense of peace. “Is she happy in her new life?”

Hades smiled then, and no part of him seemed grim like the stories. “I am always saddened to see children in this court, and they are often the ones reborn the quickest. She was born to a family in Mykonos, the firstborn son of a family. If all goes well, her new life will not end anytime soon, and **he** shall live in peace. Be glad, Eagle-Bearer for you brought peace to that island.”

“I only helped.” She felt tears in her eyes thinking of the life Phoibe would get. While she had found a family in Kassandra and Markos, she would have one less troubled.

“Do not give us your answer now, child,” Persephone said. “When the deed is done, tell us who you want, and we shall give them to you. Any memory of their death shall be erased.”

“Thank you.”

The Goddess stepped back then and extended her arm to the hallway at the other end. “Go through there and you shall end where you need to go. Do your duty well.”

Kassandra bowed to them both of them. “Thank you. I shall do you both well.” And she turned on her heels and made her way through the doorway.

-

“You’ll just be giving the shade to her.” Her husband said. “I would argue with you under any other circumstance-“

“I know you would,” Persephone said with a smile. Her Hades trusted her judgment in every turn, but it did not mean he did not question her. She did not mind, as being able to defend one’s decision well was the mark of a good decision. Not always, but having to defend your decision did bring to light any flaws. She did the same to him anyway, so she could not complain. “I will not forget how you fought me over Orpheus and Eurydice. That was ridiculous of you.”

“We both knew that was going to end terribly. I do not regret that fight."

“Do you think this will end terribly too?”

He gazed down the hallway, though the Eagle-Bearer was far out of sight now. “I hope not.”

“The Fates are never wrong, my light.”

He sighed heavily and looked to her again. “No, they are not. But their decisions do not have easy consequences.”

“No, they do not. But I hope for the Eagle-Bearer, she will know how to handle them when they come.”


	3. Chapter 3

Like the hallway before, it was covered in the most beautiful murals. The lights flickered as she would pass them and in return, the gold-tinted images would shimmer. Kassandra was able to tell after a while that it was a continuation of the story of the Olympians’ battle against the Titans. She had seen depictions of the Gods before, of course, but it struck her that this might be the first time she had ever seen an _accurate _depiction of them. Hera was a dark-haired beauty dressed in rich blues and greens. Zeus, the Golden-Haired Hero she had always imagined he’d be. Poseidon crashing in on waves. She supposes people were pretty close in their depiction.

Then there were the Titans. She didn’t pay too close attention to them, feeling uneasy, but was shocked when she realized the one that she thought was a depiction of Hades was in fact Kronos.

Kassandra didn’t like any of this. It felt all too easy. She knew many myths of mortals being ensnared by the flimsy whim of Gods. Yet, Hades and Persephone didn’t seem like the type.

She was sure Danae thought no ill will came from some simple golden light. The story of Perseus said otherwise.

Still, she continued down the hallway, hoping that the Fates would be kind to her.

Soon enough, she could see the end, in the form of light cascading down the hallway. It was bright like sunlight. She quickened her pace and found herself outside in a garden. For a moment, she thought she had found her way to the land of the living once more but looking up to the sky she saw that it was not quite her sky. It was too brilliant a blue, and not a single cloud. Nor could she find the sun. The garden was contained to a courtyard, the architecture just an awe-inspiring as the one in the chamber from before. The walls were accented with dark reds and complimented the two pomegranate trees that grew in the middle of the yard. White flowers she could not name grew around them, and on the walls, grew vines.

It did not take her long to find the person she was supposed to ‘convince’. His back was turned to her, as he sat on the opposite of the garden and was obscured due to the vegetation, but something dropped in her stomach. His silhouette seeming so familiar.

Slowly, she walked around the garden, keeping her eyes fixed on him. And then she saw that profile, one she had seen so many times before. A faint upturn in the tip of his nose, sharp cheekbones, a strong brow and that scar on his cheek she had never gotten the chance to ask him about. Kassandra felt as though the air had been knocked out of her lungs, and she struggled for a moment to ground herself.

The last time she had seen Brasidas, he had been impaled and dead. She had never even got to be there when he was buried.

And here he was.

He didn’t notice her but gazed at the flower in his hands which he twirled aimlessly. A single bloom of white with red veins. Asphodel. The flower of the Infernal King and Queen. The fields which he could not go to unless he drank from Lethe. Which struck the question, why didn’t he? There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, but first, she had to bring herself to him. A seemingly impossible task.

For the thousandth time since she had gotten here, Kassandra told herself this couldn’t be real.

But it was.

It was Brasidas who made the first move, he froze and brought his gaze up from the flower. He looked at her with a stern expression, which then melted away into recognition. Happiness. Then pure horror.

“Gods no, not you too.” He whispered, the flower dropping from his hands. “Kassandra.”

“Brasidas.” Her voice broke for a second, but she paid little mind. Unbelievable happiness captured her. “Old friend, you’re here!”

He got up from the seat. “And so are you. How… How?”

She walked closer to him and tentatively brought her hand out before her. She was in touching distance but stopped herself before she could make contact. What if this was a dream that would burst the second, she touched him? She could not bear it. But she had no choice. He closed the gap with half a step, her outstretched hand bumping against the breast of his armour. It was warm. Flattening her palm against it, she could feel the faintest heartbeat against it. Tears sprung to her eyes.

“Thank the gods.” She whispered, tears welling up. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“You’re here too early.” That horrified expression was still on his face. “Kassandra, you couldn’t have died. Please, what is left of my heart couldn’t bear that. You’re here and you shouldn’t be.”

She laughed, feeling it first bubbling in her chest and rippling out. “No, I’m alive. Alive and bringing you home. Eurydice, meet your Orpheus.”

Relief washed over his face, and that smile she had missed so much made an appearance. “But how?”

“The will of the Gods perhaps. Though, by the way, Hades and Persephone had reacted, I doubt it was that.”

He gave a small laugh. “So, you had to go through the judicial process too. They… are not what I expect. I had expected a ruthless king and a slave wife, but she seemed to be the one in control.”

“They’re not. She reminds of Aspasia. You never met her, but she was the lover to Perikles. A hurricane of a woman. She's why I'm here, Persephone not Aspasia.” Kassandra then remembered why she was there in the first place. Persephone’s words suddenly made sense. She’d know when she’d see the Shade. “She believes I’m here to solve a problem for them. You’re refusing to go to Asphodel?”

He looked away from her then, bashful. “I… don’t remember how I died. I didn’t even know what had happened or where I was. There was a great river, and the Ferryman asking for the drachmae I had died with on me. Or perhaps given? It was all too quick Kassandra. I couldn’t just forget everything. I couldn't forget the people I had met.”

“You don’t remember how you died?” Now that shocked her. She could never forget it, watching in horror as Alexios cleared his way through several Spartans, before turning to Brasidas. He had injured so terribly at the Battle of Pylos, and it was evident in how he had fought back that his injuries still tortured him. One swift move and his head had been impaled on his own spear. “Brasidas… it has been nearly a year since then and I still find myself waking up from that battle. I try and save you in these dreams, knowing what will come, but my legs are never fast enough, and Alexios is too quick.”

His jaw tightened, and she watched a swarm of emotions cross his face. He turned from her after a moment.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracked slightly, which made her insides turn. “It is odd. I always thought that when I would die, I would leave nothing behind. Just another Spartan to fall in battle. But knowing I left something on you, it pains me.”

“You left behind so much!” Kassandra said, stepping forward. She put her hand to his back, causing him to turn to look at her. “I didn’t know until I left, but the people of Amphipolis hail you as a hero. You were buried near their agora in a fine tomb, with sacrifices made to you. Kleon was killed by my hands, and Thucydides ridiculed and exiled. Sparta hails you as a great general.”

Tears began to appear in his eyes, but she did not stop. “I’ve met your mother, Argileonis and by the Gods what a woman. She said that while you were a brave man, Sparta holds far better.”

He laughed, though there was a hollow sound to it. “Of course, she did. She’s a Spartan woman through and through.”

“She told me though, before I left, that Sparta will never be so lucky ever again.” She gave him a smile. “Brasidas, you are missed and loved. What you’ve done will be sung for years to come, but you were struck down too soon.”

“And you plan to take me back.”

“Yes.”

He looked around him, before looking back to her. “It feels like I’ve only been here a couple of days. It’s beautiful here, like nothing I’ve ever seen before. I was told I could wait here, till my time would come. She told me I knew when that would be.”

“I am here to convince you. Persephone told me, I knew what it would be when I’d meet you. She told me, for my duty, I’d be allowed to bring one Shade back with me as a reward. I think she wants me to bring you home.”

He nodded. “Then take me home. But not to Sparta.”

Before she could ask, he continued. “Most of my life was lived in Sparta. If not in Sparta, I was elsewhere for military reasons. Never in my life had I gone somewhere because I wanted to. I want to see it all now. I want to walk the streets of Athens. I want to see more of Makedonia. By Zeus, I want to see Kephallonia too, the place that you made you well… you.”

Happiness bubbled in her chest, making her laugh.

“Anywhere. But first, we need to go back to Hades and Persephone.”

She turned and made her way back to the door she had entered from. Opening it back up again, she saw the hallway still alight, and Brasidas gasped behind her.

“It was just a sitting room before.” He stepped ahead of her and placed a hand onto the painted walls. “This world will never stop amazing me.”

“Glad we have that in common. Let’s go.”

They walked down the hallway for some time, before Brasidas turned to her. “Why did you leave Sparta? Your _mater_ and you fought so hard to get your home again.”

Kassandra sighed. That was complicated. “I suppose I never realized how much I have changed from the person I could have been. Sparta is where I was born. I shall die a Spartan. But it’s not my home. Not since I was thrown from that mountain. As long as I stayed there, I’d be reminded of that. Alexios was the same. We were travelling for a time, but some doctor caught his eyes.”

He hummed and took a moment before asking another question, one she really didn’t want to answer. “Alexios was the one who killed me, right?”

“…Yes.” There was no avoiding it. “He’s not like he was before. His mood is still so unpredictable, but his memory of his time as Deimos… is muddled.”

“I don’t think I’m angry, so I don't think you need to defend him. Though I might have to give him a good punch.”

She laughed at that. “I’ll hold him for you.”

The hallway seemed way shorter than it had been before as soon enough they were in the great chamber again. Persephone hopped up from her throne, obviously pleased.

“Ah, Eagle-Bearer! I see you did what you needed to.” She clasped her hands together. “And this is the Shade you want to bring back.”

A statement and not a question. So, this was what Persephone wanted. She gave a nod. “I made my choice. I want Brasidas, son of Tellis and Argileonis. General of Sparta and Hero of the Peloponnesian War.”

She smiled. “Of course. Brasidas, do you remember what I told you when you first met us?”

He looked to Kassandra and then to the Queen. “I do. You said my time here would be short. So, you wouldn't send me to Elysium like I should go?”

“I knew this would happen.” She said with the sweetest smile. Kassandra was confused, but before she could even open her mouth to ask Persephone turned to her. “We did not know it would happen this way. We were told at the beginning of your war that a fine General would come to us, only to be brought back up to the living. That it would change history but not our own.”

“Who did?” Kassandra asked. “How could anyone know?”

“The Fates,” Hades said. His silence had made her forgot he was even there. “They are a part of this land.”

Persephone nodded. “We cannot say how this will go for the both of you, but he is yours. Know you have the blessings of Hades Kthionios and Persephone Praxidike with you. I hope when we see the two of you again, it won't be for many years, and when you do come know there is a place in Elysium waiting for you. For both of you.”

Kassandra looked to Brasidas then. This was fate. From the moment they had met in the warehouse in Korinth, to the battle of Amphipolis. Their threads had been intertwined. And she could tell it was also going through his mind too. It was an overwhelming feeling. So many people she had known and met, and yet his life was the one the Gods and Fates had placed importance on. Kassandra had always felt something from him, but she had learned that feelings only got her hurt. But maybe now....

“How do we get back home then?” She asked, not taking her eyes off of him. She wanted to reach out and touch him but restrained herself.

“Easy. Just a quick snap-“ There was the sound of fingers snapping, then they weren’t there anymore. The sound of birds filled their ears, and the world that was once black marble was green and bright. Kassandra jumped back and took in her surroundings as quickly as she could. She knew these woods. The same woods she had hunted with Alexios in not several days earlier. Not far away was the Chora.

She turned to look at Brasidas, who took in the sights like a blind man seeing light for the first time. Joy was written all over his face and it was contagious. Giddiness filled her up. When he looked to her, smiling wildly, Kassandra couldn’t help but throw herself onto him, hugging him tightly.

They pulled apart only slightly. He seemed breathless but still spoke. “I suppose we will worry about the Fates and Gods later. Where to first, great Kassandra.”

“We-“

“You two have definitely made a mess.” A voice interrupted her. It was one that she did not recognize. Kassandra, not pulling away from him, looked to see where this voice had come. And before them was a young, handsome man with golden hair and wings on his sandals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of his expressions felt mocking. If he wasn’t who he was, Kassandra probably would have struck him down.

She didn’t need to think to know who he was. God of Thieves, Herald of Men, Messenger and Son of Zeus. _Hermes Psychopompos. _It really said how her day was going that she could easily admit she was in the presence of a God without any doubt. Barnabas would be proud.

He was dressed like a traveller, his clothes plain, but his chlamys was a deep purple with golden accents. Where Persephone and Hades lacked, Hermes glowed. He looked ethereal.

“Who-“ Brasidas started, but Hermes cut him off quickly.

“I love my Uncle, I’m one of the few Olympians that make their way to the Underworld on a regular basis. He’s fair and wise in ways some Olympians aren’t. This, however, is the most foolish thing he has ever done. Did he not think my father wouldn’t know? Zeus was the one who really pushed for Asklepios’ death.” He had a little smile on his face that brought primal feeling in Kassandra. She was pissed.

She pulled away from Brasidas, roughly enough to get a small protest out of him, but she paid no mind. She stormed towards Hermes, spitting out her words. “What are you trying to get at? Everyone knows the story of Asklepios. By the Two Gods, I’ve dealt with his sanctuary. He threw the world out of balance by **_bringing back _**the dead, not coming back to life. If you’re trying something I’ll-“

Hermes laughed, throwing up his hands defensively. “I’m just a messenger. So defensive. If I had it my way, I’d leave you be. I know better than to mess with mortals and their love affairs. You rage wars harder than us for the things you love. But I have no say.” He pointed behind her, to where Brasidas stood. Kassandra turned around expecting to see him, but there was nothing. No one. Panic shot through her, painful and sharp.

She didn’t think, pulling her spear from its spot and launching at his throat. The God, in all his glory, let out a strangled yell and she stopped just before the spear would have pierced his throat. The tip still poked at the flesh. “I wonder if Gods bleed?” She hissed. “We may find out if you don’t tell me what you just did.”

His eyes flashed with something like fear, his expression contorted and panicked. “I told you I am just a messenger! Blame my father, not me!”

“Then take me to him.” She growled. He gave a nervous laugh, so she pressed the blade harder. “I’m serious.”

“I know I know! Just please take that away and we can talk civilly.”

Kassandra watched him for a second, as he sweated and shook. Eventually, she did as he asked, pulling the spear away slowly. She still held it firmly in her hand and watched him like Ikaros would watch his prey. She watched him lean against a tree, grasping at his neck.

“It’s… been a while since I met a mortal who is as reckless as you. No sane person would attack a God-“

“Where did Brasidas go.” She didn’t care for his chat anymore. “It was Persephone who promised him to me, not Hades. If you have such an issue with it, bring it up to her. Not me.”

“Again,” He seemed exasperated. “I am. Just. A. Messenger. I don’t care what you do! It’s my father who cares. He’s been waiting for an excuse to make a show of Hades! Look, those brothers do not get along at all. And it’s just gotten worse throughout the centuries. Hades doesn’t care, I know that, but Zeus and Poseidon… they’re dead set on trying to outdo each other and Hades gets dragged in.”

She sighed. Persephone did warn her of not knowing how this would go for them. Did she know? Then again, she left the Underworld with their blessings.

“What does this have to do with me?” Kassandra then put her spear away, watching relief wash over Hermes’ face. “I don’t care for the drama the Gods get up to-“

“Okay, let me paint this clearly.” Hermes interrupted her and looked cautiously to see if he had offended. After a moment, he continues. “How many mortals do you think get to come back from the Underworld?”

She thought about it for a while, but when she didn’t answer he continued. “Exactly. Zero. Besides the fun with Asklepios, no mortals come back. Ever. And my father, he sees that as Hades overstepping. Even if it was his wife’s idea. So, Zeus sent me here to tell you off, grab the General, and that was that. They’re going to brawl this out and you will have a terrible thunderstorm or whatever. My job is done.”

“No, it’s not.” Kassandra refused to accept this. Moments ago, she had decided she was going to pursue what she had let go before. “Take me to them.”

Hermes looked confused and then it dawned on him. He just gave a ‘huh’ and seemed to mull over it. He smiled again, this time not pissing Kassandra.

“It’s entirely possible.” He seemed to perk up again, that glow returning to him. “I mean my father may not be happy, but in the end, he’d probably enjoy this fun.”

He walked towards her and took the brimmed hat, that had been hanging off his neck properly onto his head. Hermes reached out and grabbed her upper arm. Before she could protest, she realized she wasn’t in the woods anymore.

“I am getting really tired of being brought places abruptly.”

Hermes looked to her, apologetically. “I can’t promise this will be the last time.” He let go of her arm and beaconed her to look around.

She was quickly impressed, as they stood in a chamber of marble and gold. There were none of those murals that she saw in the Underworld, but that didn’t mean the ways were void. Everything seemed light and shimmery.

“Welcome to the Palace of Olympos!” Hermes said as he walked forward. “Follow me, the people you want to meet will be in here.”

“People is a very fun way of saying the Olympians,” Kassandra interjected. Hermes looked back at her.

“You will want to watch your mouth in here. Try what you did with me and you will be spending a lot of time in Tartarus with your favourite Cult.”

She didn’t feel intimidate by this. Anger still was in her, threatening to come out once more. She hated being at the mercy of the Gods so quickly. They could have at least let her take Brasidas somewhere. She had thought of bringing him to Amphipolis to show him how the city had grown or maybe to the Sanctuary of Apollo. Well, maybe not Amphipolis considering everything, but the freedom to do so had been there. They didn’t deserve to be thrown into what was basically a game of chicken.

She stepped into the next chamber, as it opened as Hermes stepped forward. And in it was an even more impressive chamber than before. But she didn’t pay any mind to that. She only had eyes for the God within.

She was reminded vaguely of Perikles’ symposium. Little groups talking among themselves as food and wine was served. It was obviously more extravagant than that. And the people in this room weren’t just the finest Athens had to offer, but literal Gods. From the murals in the Underworld, she was able to connect the dots of who was who. Hera was still dressed in deep blues and greens. There was Athena, and Kassandra felt herself almost laugh at the thought of her climbing the massive statue of her in her namesake city. Apollo was not hard to miss, shining like the sun.

And then there was Zeus, the Gold-Haired Hero of the Titanomachy. God of the Sky and so on and so forth. She wasn’t impressed.

“I want Brasidas back.” Her voice carried throughout the chamber, loud and clear. Any music that played came to a halt and the chatter was gone. Zeus had been chatting with someone who Kassandra realized was Ares, when he looked over to her.

He struck an imposing figure, but Kassandra felt herself confident. She stepped ahead of Hermes, despite his protests, and made her way to the King of Gods. “I have nothing to do with your little fight with your _older_ brother, but I will not have it. Give me back what was mine.”

She stopped when Zeus laughed, booming and loud like thunder. How fitting. “Don’t meet many like you. No one comes here and demands things of me.”

“Well, I just did.” Her heart hammered away, but she couldn’t let him know that she was afraid. Cause she was, despite her bravado. She knew what sort of fire she was playing with. Still, she pressed forward. “Brasidas is mine-“

“It was not Hades to give you.” He smiled at her, mockingly almost. “Never yours I’m afraid.”

Kassandra laughed, though shakiness came through. She could feel every eye on her. “Good thing it wasn’t Hades who gave him to me. Your daughter did, Persephone.”

“Oh, by the Fates.” She heard a woman sigh behind her. She turned to see a woman dressed in greens and gold, reminiscent of field. “My daughter makes a mess of everything, doesn’t she. Fancying herself a Queen.”

So, this was Demeter. Kassandra never imagined she’d look like she did. She was more aged than the other Gods she had seen, which fit the motherly image associated with her.

She looked back to Zeus and suddenly knew the scales were not tipped in her favour. She couldn’t just demand what she wanted, no drachmae or sword strong enough to win this battle. “I was told that the Fates themselves wanted this. You go against that which rules the very fabric of the world you rule? A very dangerous game indeed.”

There was a small break in his smile, for just a moment. “The Fates are not so straightforward as you think. You are young and know nothing compared to me. There are many interpretations. You are just settling for the one you like best-“

“Like you are?” Kassandra took one stepped forward. She thought back on every myth she knew, trying to think of something that would win her this. “You are a God who has loved many, who has seen many be loved. I… love him. He is a friend, a comrade and someone I would want to love until our final breath, many years from now. I beg of you, for pity and mercy. He was ripped away from me once before and I refuse to let him be ripped away again.”

The room was silent and still. She watched him, praying that he would take the pity she asked of him. Prayed that he could hear her, and her desperation. To know what she had done to reunite her family, and what she would do further. But he just looked at her, no change in him.

Then someone spoke up.

“Father.” A woman spoke up. Kassandra looked to where the voice had come from. Athena. She had only gotten a glimpse of her before but was unable to see just how beautiful she was. She thought of fitting it was she was dressed in the colours of her city. “I do not know if you realize who this is, but it is Kassandra, the Eagle-Bearer and hero of both Sparta and Athens. Her blood is not of mortals or of Gods, but still powerful.”

“And what are you getting at?” Ares responded as Zeus looked to her with amusement. All of his expressions felt mocking. If he wasn’t who he was, Kassandra probably would have struck him down.

“What I am getting at is that maybe the Fates did this for a reason. I know Persephone, and she is not a foolish child. And you know your brother, does he seem like the sort of man to just let a mortal go for no reason? Tell me, do we know under the circumstances why this was allowed?”

Athena looked to her then, with shockingly pale blue eyes. “Why did they let you have this Shades?”

Kassandra forgot her words for a second but composed herself just as quickly. There was something about the Goddess’ gaze that made her unsure. “I was told that Brasidas’ return to the living would change history. That the Fates willed it.”

Athena smiled at her, pleased with the answer. She then turned by to her father. “The Fates willed it. We all know what happens when you go against what they want.”

The room suddenly became tense. Kassandra was sure it was not often the King of Gods who was challenged. His expression said as much. She waited with bated breath, watching his every expression till finally, he gazed at her, a smile on his face.

“Fine. You may have your General.” Absolute joy rose in her, flooding her every sense. So much so she did not register how malicious the smile was that he gave her. She had a thank you on the tip of the tongue when Zeus held up his hand. “But you will do something for us.”

Joy turned to dread. No task of the Gods would be simple. “What will you ask of me?”

“You have fulfilled the wishes of Hades in order to get this man back. So, it is only fair you prove yourself further. There resides a woman, who ages but shall never die. Her prophecies are never false but are rarely true. Bring to me her secrets and I shall give you the one you love forever. If you fail, I shall strike him down and you shall never see him again. Not in life or death.”

“I thought you said that woman was nothing to worry about.” One man spoke up. By the leopard skin that adorned him, Kassandra knew this was Dionysus. “Not that I am complaining, but maybe a task that will benefit us m-“

“No.” Dionysus shuffled away at his father’s interruption. “This is perfect for her. You shall have your General back, he may be of some help. I want you to be with him when you fail.”

She bit back the anger that came with the threat. With gritted teeth, she muttered a “thank you”. But he still had more to say.

“You will have to find this woman yourself, though I will not protest any of the Divine to help you. You seemed to be well-liked by my brother and his wife. And my daughter. This will be interesting to watch. Hermes takes her back to where you found her. You will find this general waiting for you as well.”

The last she saw of Olympos was Zeus’ smug face. Next thing she knew, there was a hand on her shoulder and Kassandra's world was green and bright once more.


	5. Chapter 5

“By the Gods.” Kassandra had no time to take in the new surroundings. All she could do was react to the voice that was behind her; spinning around rapidly enough to make her head ache. Instant relief washed over her when she saw Brasidas, but it was replaced with worry seeing how he pressed his hand to his pale face. He was half slumped upon of rock and was very obviously shaken.

“Brasidas!” She was by his side in a moment, a hand on him to steady him. “Are you alright? Did they do anything-“

“No.” He swallowed hard. “They did nothing. It… was odd.”

She waited for him to explain further, but nothing came. Kassandra just watched with careful eyes, taking in every part of him. He seemed unharmed, physically at least. She couldn’t help but take in every bit of him with a sort of hunger. Her mouth almost ran dry at the peak of chest hair showing from under his armour. His very Spartan armour. It crossed her mind that if they were to travel, it would have to go.

“Will you be fine to walk?” She pulled her eyes away from his chest to his eyes and was glad to see him more put together than before.

“More than alright. What happened? I can’t explain what happened to me, but you?”

She held her hand up to stop him. “It’s alright. I will explain on our way. We're not far from the Chora of Delphi. I know someone there who will help us.”

She held her hand out to him, which was taken with no hesitation.

-

The Chora hadn’t changed much in the weeks since she had last been there. And those few weeks ago, they hadn’t changed when she had first charged through to the Pythia’s home. It was obviously a well off town, though it had fallen on hard times with the war. The lack of soldiers, beyond the guards by the Pythia’s home (which had doubled since her impromptu visit), was a sign that the hard times were on their way out.

As they walked out of the forest and into the grove of olive trees that lined one side of the Chora, Kassandra filled Brasidas in on everything. She had forgotten how much she loved to talk to him, even when the topic was the worst news they could have. He reacted with a well-meaning gasp or the occasional swear at just the perfect times and seemed calmer than she would have expected.

“I have nothing to worry about.” He had explained when she questioned him on it. “With the Great Kassandra by my side, we will see this trial of the Gods done. A woman like Zeus describes won’t be hard to find. People like that are often followed by rumours. We ask the right people, we find a lead.”

She had smiled at that. “Always the optimist.”

“Someone has to be.”

Her smile was gone though, the second they were at Lykaon’s doorstep, with a very upset Alexios being the one to answer her knock.

“So, you are comfy enough to answer his door now?” She had tried to joke, but Alexios’ eyes were not on her. Brasidas seemed just stiff, though it seemed more awkwardness rather than Alexios’ horror.

“I killed you.” Was all he could say after what felt like hours. There was pain in his voice. “I ran your own spear through your head. You were dead.”

It was horrible watching him flinch; the first mentions he would have heard on how he had died. And it wasn't an easy death at all. “You didn’t do a very good job.”

She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t watched as Alexios’ shocked expression turned into amusement and burst out with laughter. Loud and abrasive, Kassandra’s hands went immediately to her weapon. The sound was too Deimos in nature. There was suddenly the threat of one of his outbursts, which she should have predicted. Outbursts always followed after some reminder of his previous life and she was berating herself silently for not realizing this could have been an outcome.

“I never knew you had such spirit.” Alexios stepped out from the door frame and every nerve in Kassandra’s body screamed at her to hold him back. But she didn’t move. Eyes were trained on Alexios, waiting for the first move before she made assumptions and made the situation worse.

“I’ve got a lot more than just that.” He snarled, baring his teeth. His hand went to his back, where his spear would have normally sat, but there was none. He had enough time to react to his empty hand before another joined into the fray.

“Kassandra? You’re back?” All three heads turned to see the source of the voice, the soft-spoken Lykaon. He looked vastly different from the last time she had seen him, considering he appeared more tired than before and the chiton he wore now was of a lesser material. And covered with grim and blood.

Alexios wasted no time on them and made his over to Lykaon, grabbing the bag from him without question. It was like he became another person entirely. It was shocking. “Did it go well?”

A sort of weariness fell over Lykaon as he shook his head. “There was little I could do. The way there was hard for the horse, and most of the men had succumbed by then.”

This was enough to pique her interest. “What happened?”

Lykaon gave a heavy sigh. “Bandits. A group of them made a home in the Temple of Tityos once more and have been robbing pilgrims. Some of the men from around here and the Pilgrim's Landing decided enough was enough after a local woman was attacked and raped.”

He looked back to Alexios, his expression unreadable, but distinctly sad. “I shouldn’t have turned away your help. We lost so many. I feel as though I am responsible-“

“That’s stupid.” There was no gentleness in his tone. “You can’t save lives that people throw away. People die and that’s their fault.”

Lykaon gave a small laugh. “You’re thinking like a warrior again. Not like a person. Think, how would the average person react to hearing about senseless death.”

There was a pregnant pause with Alexios mulling over the thought, before Lykaon’s attention snapped back to them, as though he had forgotten Kassandra was there.

“I suppose you will stay the night. You and your friend?”

“Yes, if that is alright. I apologize for dropping in like this. I promise there is a good reason behind it.”

Alexios grinned, something vicious in it as the softer version of him before was wipe away. “You will tell this story, sweet sister. It’s not every day a man who is supposed to be dead comes knocking.”

She felt at that moment more tired than she had ever before. The thought of what fight might come from her brother’s hostilities was more than exhausting, and she honestly had nothing in her to defend against them. “Please, Alexios I have had a long and very complicated day. You can be a bastard tomorrow about it.”

“A dead man?” Lykaon seemingly for the first time took notice of Brasidas. He seemed confused. “I don’t understand.”

“I promise I will explain everything when we get inside.”

Hours later, with the sun hanging low in the sky and Kassandra’s throat ran raw, Lykaon’s confusion still stayed.

“I don’t understand.” He said for the millionth time. He looked to Alexios, maybe hoping for an explanation, but her brother just shrugged and poured more wine into the empty glasses. “How could you have met the Lord of the Underworld? Or Zeus? How is any of this possible?”

“In my journeys, I have found that anything is possible. There are some things that can never be explained.”

This didn’t seem to quell him. “But this doesn’t make any sense. The Gods can’t truly be real?”

“Impiety? From you, Lykaon?” Alexios teased with a smirk. “I should go running to the Sanctuary to tell on you.”

“You know what I mean. It’s… hard to believe is all.” Lykaon stared hard at Brasidas, who had remained silent during the past hours; only nodding if Kassandra had glanced at him. “What was it like being dead?”

She ground her teeth and was ready to stop what was so obviously a delicate question when Brasidas put his hand up to stop her. “It was nothing. It was unceremonious.”

All eyes were fixed on him, waiting for a continuation, but Brasidas seemed to think over his words, clearly unsure. Kassandra watched him closely in those seconds, watching how the muscles in his jaw tensed and his fists balled so tight his knuckles had gone white. It suddenly worried her that her own entrance was not the norm. That maybe there had been more. There was an urge to reach out and comfort him, but she stayed put.

“One second I’m fighting him-“ He nodded towards Alexios who now suddenly seemed to tense. “-and then I was before a great river. There was… just grey. And a boat. I asked the ferryman where I was and that I needed to get back to the battlefield, but I was told I died. Nothing else. No explanation as to how. Just that I died.”

The glance Lykaon gave Alexios could not be missed, and it dawned on her that neither of them mentioned that Alexios had been the cause of death. Brasidas continued, “I told this ferryman I couldn’t have died and I was told to give him the drachmae and get a move on.”

“Kharon didn’t seem like the type to put up with Shades.” She added sympathetically, getting a small laugh out of him.

“Next thing I know, I am being led down a hallway to this great hall, where Persephone tells me I am several decades too early! No ceremony. I barely had time to understand that I was actually in the court of the King and Queen of the Dead. They didn't look like what I expected at all-"

"-They seemed very plain."

"Very plain. Hades didn't speak at all, he just watched me. It was odd. I asked them if I was to go to the Asphodel Fields. By then I had somewhat come to terms with what happened and asked if I could meet my grandfather, who had died just before the war. I was told I had a place in Elysium for my valour, but my time there in the Underworld was short. She completely ignored my question. There was no point in me going just yet. I was offered to forget, to drink the waters of Lethe, but I refused. I was shuffled away just as quickly as I entered.”

He gave a heavy sigh. “A whole year went by in what felt like a few days of waiting. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I suppose time works differently there.” Lykaon offered. “It’s been little over 2 months since you were last here Kassandra, but from how you told the story you seem to think it’s been less than that.”

Her eyes widened. She had never thought of that. The idea that more than a month had passed without her realizing made her stomach twist uncomfortably. They all fell into silence just as uncomfortable, till Alexios spoke up.

“I am sorry.” It was shocking to hear. Rarely did she hear him apologize, but rather avoid anything that broached a subject that needed it. Kassandra hadn’t expected him to do so, not after his aggressive display earlier. “I want to say I was not myself. But I was _that_ for so long that it’s hard to justify. I would take it back if I could.”

It was hard to read Brasidas’ expression, but there was a coolness to him that made her nervous.

“I want to punch you.”

“Pardon?”

“I want to punch you.” He repeated. “I told Kassandra I would give you a punch in return. I hold to my word.”

Alexios nodded, mouth drawn tight and seemingly surprised by the easy punishment. Kassandra gave a quick protest, but her brother stopped her.

“No, I deserve this.” He got up from his seat, with a small grunt. “Make it good, General.”

She watched with equal parts horror and anticipation as Alexios stood rigid and squared as Brasidas gave a quick stretch.

“I have a good punch.” He warned, twisting his hand around in little circles then flexing the fingers. She wanted to laugh at the whole display, never having seen Brasidas trying to come off intimidating while also being playful with it was almost fun to watch. “Many have told me so. I won’t hold back, I need to make it worth it all."

“Holding back would be an insult to me.” Alexios eyed his right hand as he stretched more.

“We wouldn’t want that.” And with one quick motion, his fist was meeting Alexios' jaw with a vicious sound. She reflectively flinched and Lykaon jolted from his seat; crying out Alexios’ name as he stumbled backwards. Kassandra was amazed by how quickly her brother put himself back together, rubbing the site of impact with mild annoyance. He was shaking though and his face had gone pale except for the red around his jaw. He was trying to hide out much it had actually pained him and she felt pride over it.

“That’s hurt.” He grumbled. An evident understatement. It was clear to everyone in the room by how Alexios nursed his jaw, but no one said anything. Brasidas just gave a wide grin.

“I did warn you.”

“Glad to see Spartans don’t hold back,” Alexios smirked. “Are we even or are you going to go for my nose next?”

She smiled and Lykaon seemed to final breath when Brasidas extended his hand out. “For now your nose is safe. Just keep spears away from me.”

“You two are more than welcome to stay the night,” Lykaon added in quickly, as the two of them gripped at each other’s forearms, intensity still there. “I know I said so earlier, but I realize that I only have one extra bedtick, Alexios is in my extra room-“

“I can give up the bed,” Alexios said with a smile, which seemed to put Lykaon at ease finally.

After such a long day, the decision to just share with Alexios seemed so easy. “I can just sleep with-“

“-Kassandra and I can share.” Brasidas interrupted. The idea hit her harder than the punch. She hadn't even allowed herself to entertain such a tempting thought “You have been kind, and I do not want to impose upon the both of you like that. I don't want to punch and kick a man out of his own bed in just one night.”

“Are you fine with that?” Lykaon asked, and for a moment Kassandra could not find her words. The idea made her uncharacteristically bashful. It dawned on her she had never seen Brasidas without his armour on besides one occasion, or in any sort of state of vulnerability. It seemed like a big step.

“I’m fine with that.” Her voice came out remarkably steady despite how much the thought made her turn to liquid. 

No time was given for her to succumb to such feelings. There was a quick clean up of the small meal they had with Lykaon pushing away any attempt of help, which was not much unlike when she had last been there. She had instead awkwardly followed Alexios outside who had gone to feed his horse. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t follow you out like a lost dog.” Alexios had remarked. She scoffed.

“He is capable of making his own decisions. And unlike me, he was more stubborn in helping out your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?!” Even in the dying light, it was obvious how red Alexios went. “That’s not it-“

“I’m surprised you sleep in separate rooms. What would _mater_ say about her little boy playing about? I’ll give you this, Lykaon is prettier than most girls I’ve seen.”

His hand shook as he pressed oats up to his horse’s mouth, but it wasn’t the anger that would flare up from time to time, but embarrassment. “It really isn’t that. Lykaon has been a rock and he is helping me. I am finding myself more steady than before. Though this sudden visit really had me reeling back. I am sorry for being a real shithead.”

She gave a hum. In hindsight, she couldn't blame him for any ill intentions. “Well, I’m glad for you. I hope you know that? I tease cause you are my brother and that is what family does.”

“What are you going to do?” He brushed the remaining oats on his hand to his chiton. “This prophet? Ages but never dies? Never false but rarely true? Sounds like God bullshit. And God bullshit is the worst kind of bullshit.”

“It is. But I have no other choice. I think Athens will be the best choice. Rumours fly around there than flies on a corpse. I’m sure there are people talking about this woman, even something remotely close.”

“Why not try the Sanctuary then?” Alexios gestured up towards the mountain. “A prophet like that might be good gossip where prophets rule. I’m sure some would see it as a threat to the Pythia’s wisdom. Or maybe an asset? It’s the closest place too."

“I hadn’t thought of that.” It made sense, though the thought of going to the Pythia now filled her with reproach. Going before with her brother was supposed to be symbolic of sorts. An obstacle that needed to be pushed aside.

“Well, I am the smart one.”

There was no containing her laughter at that. “Oh, you wish. Keep dreaming, _maláka_.” Kassandra laughed more at his dramatically put on expression, a mocking hurt.

“I do take after my sister so I suppose it can’t be helped.”

She gave him a punch to his chest and laughed along with him more. A weight was gone now that there was somewhat a plan in place.

But another weight took place as they walked indoors as she realized just how hard this was going to be. The euphoria of everything was passing fast as she watched Lykaon throw the padding to the clear part of the room that this was going to be the easiest part of their journey.

Or at least it felt easy until Alexios and Lykaon bid them good night and she had to watch with a dry mouth as Brasidas started to take apart his chest plate.

None of this was going to be easy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing quite a bit of reading this past week and learned that my headcanon surrounding Brasidas' family was wrong. In the previous chapter, I off offhandedly mention his father being dead, but in actuality, his father lived to see the Treaty of Nikias. He was actually one of 17 Spartans to give oaths. So, I fixed that small mention in the previous chapter. Tellis lives!

Morning felt like it came to quickly. There was a dull ache in her body, still tired from overexertion and a soft pulsing against her temples. She needed to keep sleeping, that much was obvious. But Helius had other ideas as the sun hit her square in the face. The warmth was welcoming but not the blinding red that stung her eyes. Moving one hand to shield her face, Kassandra knocked something and earned her a small grunt. It was enough to make her open her eyes and remind her of the sleeping situation.

Kassandra had seen him once without armour, dressed in a wine-red himation the day after the Monger had been slain. The festivities had been at Anthousa’s insistence and the two Spartans had been forced to stay for at least the celebrations.

“You robbed me of a public display of his death.” She had said with a smile. “So, let us have a celebration of his death instead.”

Her mouth had run dry then, seeing him without armour had really driven home how tall and broad he was. They had laughed most of the night away, drinking far more than they should of, and teased each other till she felt every nerve buzz. He had taken up her every sense.

Now, staring at the sleeping man, she felt the opposite. He didn’t look like a strong Spartan General, a former ephor, decorated hero or the warrior she had met in fire and smoke. He was just a man. A sleeping, vulnerable man. He slept curled up as much as possible, his fist pressed to his mouth. It gave her a good chance to look him over, seeing how much he had changed and how much didn’t. When she had first met him, those faint crow’s feet hadn’t been there, and he hadn’t looked as exhausted. In Amphipolis, he had looked worn down and the shadows under his eyes had been a deep purple.

It was something of an in-between now. It was hard to really grasp that, for him, that battle felt like only a few days ago. He looked far better, but still so doubtlessly tired. Kassandra racked her eyes over every visible bit of him, taking in the small changes. There was a thick scar now on his right bicep, which she hadn’t remember there being before. Then she remembered with horror that Alexios had sliced at his arm before shoving that spear through his head.

And then she remembered the sickening noise, once the battle was done and the soldiers collected the dead, as the spear had been removed so he could be laid to rest.

That day came pouring back to her. She had stayed in Amphipolis a few days for no other reason then Kassandra had wanted to see him buried. Barnabas had given her comforting words and stories of Elysium to ease her mind, but those few days had no comfort. She had been the one to place a drachma in his mouth and stayed only long enough to watch all those poor fallen soldiers being buried or cremated so they could be brought back home. In the end, Kassandra couldn't even bear to watch him be placed into the earth, even with celebrations fit for the hero he was.

She had taken the head of the spear with her back to Sparta and thrown it into the sea. Her family had been restored that day, but in her mind, all Kassandra felt was a loss.

This memory had been played over so many times in the year that had passed, often after a nightmare from the battle. It seemed like a dream that now such a thing hadn’t mattered. That he was here before her, sleeping deeply enough that he snored. Without a thought, she brought her hand out to touch the scar, as though to confirm this was real and that he truly was there beside her; warm and alive.

The contact stirred him from sleep, which prompted her to yank her hand away quickly. Squeezing her eyes tight again, she listened to how his breathing changed as he woke up. Kassandra eventually opened her eyes, but only when she felt the mattress shift as he sat up.

The sight before her now made her heart pang with a loose desire. For what she didn’t know, but a part of her wanted to see this sight again and again. His hair stuck up odd from resting on his side and he was still half asleep. And somehow, he looked regal despite it all as the morning sun fell over him. He wore the sunlight like a crown.

“_Kaliméra_, Kassandra.” His voice was thick with sleep and it endeared her more. “Sleep well?”

“Of course.”

-

He had barely protested at her suggestion to get rid of his Spartan aesthetic. She had only brought it up as they gathered things for their journey in the small agora, as many eyes seemed trained on him. His armour was gorgeous, battle-worn and distinctly him, but it was also very Spartan. Kassandra had told him this as straightforward as she could; being a Spartan made you stick out. Brasidas had taken it well, yet she hadn’t expected him to cut the braid from his hair. Even Alexios made a noise as he watched.

“Only Spartans wear their hair like this.” Was all he had said as he ran his hand through the now plain hair. Kassandra had then offered to clean it up some more.

By the time they had been ready to leave, Brasidas had been dressed more like a mercenary in the armour he was able to haggle. Alexios, as an act of ‘goodwill’, had given him an old spear.

“It should hold you down till you find an actual blacksmith.” He had offered a crooked smile. One side of his face had swelled enough that smiling proper seemed to be a painful task.

There was no ceremony in leaving, just quick thank yous and promises to return as they set off towards the Sanctuary of Delphi.

They walked in silence for the first half of their journey, Kassandra herself not knowing what exactly to say. There were so many topics to choose from, but all seemed weighted with deeper issues. It felt easier to stay quiet.

“I’ve never been this far in Phokis.” He eventually broke the silence after a good half an hour. “I landed once in Kirrha as a younger man, but we never had the chance to see the Pythia.”

“You say as though you are already old.” She laughed. “The Pythia is… something else.”

Something else entailed so much. That woman and all before her stood as a testament to the Cults' corruption and the desecration of her family. It had been confirmed twice over for her that these so-called prophets heard nothing from the Gods but were just fed words.

“You don’t have to explain. I would harbour ill will towards anyone that deemed someone I love has to be thrown from Taygetos.” She sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of that fateful mountain. “But we aren’t here to hear a prophecy that could end in death. Just a starting point, hopefully. So, there is no damage that could be done.”

“Right no damage. Just the constant threat that if we don’t find this woman, I get to watch you die all over again.”

To his credit, Brasidas did not flinch. “I don’t think Zeus is going to come down from the heavens and smite me like he said. More like I will cease to be. Though what a story that’d be. Spartan General brought back to life only for him to be killed by Zeus himself. Maybe I’d become a minor God much like Asklepios? I wonder what I'd be the god of?”

He was so obviously playing with her, trying to lighten the mood, but Kassandra found herself more worried than before. “That’s not funny.”

“I’m not being funny, I’m just saying-“ He tried to defend himself, still smiling, but this was the line for her.

“It was hard before, Brasidas. I don’t want to joke about it.”

They were quiet for a while. Moving closer towards the side of the road as a horse came barreling down, Brasidas broke the silence once again.

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make light, but I’m scared too. I want this to work just as much as you do. I like living, you know.”

He stopped in his tracks, which she did not realize at first. Turning to see why he stopped, there was nothing. He gazed over the valley; late summer sun seemed to make him glow.

“Are you alright?” She asked stepping forward. He blinked, seemingly coming out of a trance. Looking to her, looking a little lost for a moment, he nodded.

The ascent up to the Sanctuary did not take long after that. Before she knew it, for the first time in so many years, Kassandra stood on Holy Ground.

“Child on the Mountain. No one can hide from the Light.” The words of the Pythia rang in her ears as she faced the Charioteer of Delphi. So much had changed since then, and she didn’t feel like the same woman who had been searching for answers then.

The impossible task of finding her mother and birth father had been great back then. Just as great as the idea of finding some paradox prophet.

“We should head towards the temple.” Her throat felt thick. “I’m sure we can get in easy if we flash our weapons.”

“That doesn’t sound wise.” His skepticism made her smile.

“It worked the last time.”

And it worked once more. Brasidas had followed behind her, scoffing when she flashed her sword at the priest guarding the door. He had said something under breath when the doors had opened, but she hadn’t pressed him. She could only smile.

The air was thick with the smell of incense and the distinct smell of bay leaves burning. The interior was just as hazy and dark as before, but the pottery and riches around seemed more ostentatious than before. The large room echoed their footsteps, with only the sound of the Pythia chanting in some language to counter them. She thought vaguely that as beautiful as this room was, and how decorated the murals on the wall were, they could never hold a light to the Underworld.

Kassandra was shocked to see that the woman before her was the exact same Pythia she had met. She supposes it made sense, the Pythia was not released until her death, but still. It was like seeing a ghost.

The Pythia said her bit about the Light of Apollo and so on, but Kassandra just rolled her eyes, giving a side glance to Brasidas who seem enraptured. Crossing her arms, she waited for the spiel to be over. Like before, the Pythia was shocked to see who stood before her, but instead of horror, it was almost delight.

“Child on the Mountain.” She seemed happy to see Kassandra, which didn’t fit what she had expected.

“You’d think after I broke into your house and demanded answers, you’d be angry to see me?” Brasidas made a noise at that, which made Kassandra smile harder. The Pythia shook her head.

“Thanks to you, the Oracles of Delphi are free to give our prophecies with no fear.” She turned and waved the guards away. They left back through the door she once saw the Pythia dragged out of. And then it was just them. “Ask me anything you wish. A prophecy for the both of you. It is the least I can do.”

Kassandra looked to Brasidas and tipped her head towards the alter. He took the cue.

“We have been tasked by a duty from the Gods themselves. We must find a woman who ages but never dies. Her prophecies are never false, but rarely true. We must find-“

“Where she hides else your soul will be reaped once more and you shall never see light again.” She finished his sentence. He gulped loudly and nodded. “I see you, General in Flames. You are not a stranger to death, and nor do you fear it.”

He looked to Kassandra, confused. “I told you she was something else.” She whispered. If the Pythia noticed, she made no show. She continued on

“I see fields of wildflowers. The sounds of laughter fills my ears. I feel a young man, with his mother’s smile and father’s eyes. I see his blood-splattered upon yards of cloth. And I see you. A shine of drachmae placed into a child’s mouth.”

Now it was her turn to look at him confused, but the expression his face stopped her. He seemed horrified. “How do-“

“I know the things you regret most.” The Pythia said with a smile. “You will face such a demon if you continue down this road. Your woman will not be easy to find, as she goes by many names. You will find the answers you seek on the grounds that ended a war. The Oracle has spoken. The prophecy is yours.”

She then turned to Kassandra. “You have not asked a question yourself.”

Kassandra just waved it away. “My question was the same as his.”

“You will find what you desire, though you do not know you desire it just yet.” The woman closed her eyes. “I have seen a vision of you. What you will want will bring you a lifetime of happiness and a thousand years of sorrow. The path you will walk will lead you close to the home you once knew.”

“The Oracle has spoken,” Kassandra whispered, unsure what to make of it.

“The prophecy is yours.”

-

“So, what do we actually know now.”

They sit on the wall behind the Monument of Epigones, the sun starting to set low. From where they were, the view of the valley is magnificent. The Sanctuary of Athena could be seen to their left, it’s construction more complete since the last time she had been there. It was a stunning view and could have been a beautiful moment if tension didn’t sit between them

Brasidas had said nothing about his own prophecy, though obviously rattled by it. Kassandra didn’t press, feeling as though the prophecy had been an open wound. She didn't know what to make of her own, feeling as though she left with more questions than answers. Barnabas would probably call that the Wisdom of the Pythia and praise it to the heavens, but she just felt frustrated.

“I think it’s more straight forward than we realize.” She looked to him, confused. “What the Pythia said, I mean. She was talking in riddles, but one part was very clear.”

“And what was that?”

He took a shaky breath, as though he didn’t want to say it. “What battle brought the war to an end, Kassandra? She said that’s where our answers lie.”

He had such expressive eyes. The expression his face could be described as neutral, she could see in those eyes how much he didn’t want to hear her answer; that he hoped there was another to be given though wasn't. Even she didn’t want it, she hadn’t been back there since they had buried all those Spartans and placed a coin in his cold mouth.

“Amphipolis.” She whispered. “It was the Battle of Amphipolis.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Honour the Gods. Honour Sparta. Keep your oaths and Elysium is yours.” His father would tell him. “But no matter what, my child, you will always make me proud if you fight for what you feel is right.”

He had grown up on those words, the ideals that made Spartan boys into men and then in warriors. He had prided himself on every praise only to chastised himself later for such vanity. He kept himself in check and only succumbed to the most human of vices on the rarest occasion.

And yet, he had been denied Elysium.

“Your time here will be short, son of Sparta.” The Queen of the Underworld had told him. “Elysium will have to wait.”

All it felt like he had ever done was wait. Wait for the Athenians to slip so he may slide between the cracks, like water between the stone. Wait for Kassandra to come back, which had been the hardest of waiting. Wait for his leg to heal so he may return to the battlefield and make up for his mistakes. Wait for the first opening at Amphipolis so he could take out Kleon with a quick swipe of the blade.

Waiting now, felt like a routine. No waiting had been done however to begin their travels.

It had been a quick journey down to Athens, though Brasidas hadn’t understood why they had gone that way instead of to Lokris which was less than a day’s travel and close to Makedonia.

“My ship is waiting for me in Athens.” She had clarified, after buying two horses off a more than willing seller. He hadn’t watched the deal, but he felt as though Kassandra had tried her ‘flashing weapons’ trick again. “Going to Athens is in our best interest. I found leads to my _mater_ in Athens. The men who helped me are still there.”

He had taken the reins of the horse without a word. They had travelled quickly through Boeotia with Kassandra recounting how she had helped her stepbrother securing the state for Sparta. He had listened as intently as he could, but his mind wandered.

“What is Athens like?” He had asked on their third day. “I’ve always been curious.”

“Big.” Was all she gave him, making him laugh.

“Big. For all the words in you, Kassandra and that’s all you can say. Big.”

She laughed at that too, and he remembered as he always did when he heard that delightful sound, how much he missed it. “Not like Korinth I suppose. That was a big city but completely filled with people. How many people live there? Do you remember?”

“Around 90,000.” He recalled. They were getting closer now to the once sieged plains outside Athens. “It’s one of the largest cities in the Greek world.”

She hummed. “Athens is smaller in population. Not by much, but enough. The city is sprawling though. It’s not as crowded as you’d think. Beautiful too in its own way. I enjoyed my time there, though I would never want to live in those walls.”

“Why?”

“They treat their women like cattle.” She said sharply. “Worse than I’ve seen elsewhere. Sparta has many problems, but at least girls are allowed to learn to stand for themselves.”

They stayed silent after that, trotting along the beaten road. It hardly felt like it was autumn, though one could argue it was still summer. The heat was still unbearable and the sun hot. They passed by an altar which Kassandra had informed him was dedicated to Prometheus, and then it all came into view. At the turn of the road, the glory of Athens came into view, the Parthenon proudly standing above its city and shimmering in the heats.

“Gods above.” He gasped, the horse coming to a slow stop beside Kassandra. There was no response from her; they gazed out towards the city, him impressed and Kassandra looking smug.

“I suppose Sparta isn’t everything.”

“I never said it was.” He couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. This had been the trophy Sparta had wanted once. This city had never fallen, and he was almost happy it didn’t. The people back home would never appreciate it as much as the Athenians must of.

“Let’s keep going.” She tapped her horse with her heel and proceeded forward at a slow pace. He took a moment to follow, never really taking his eyes off the city.

-

“I had never come in through Athens that way.” She had told him. “When I was last here, Athens was no longer sieged, but they kept most of the gates shut as a precaution.”

They had sold the horses when they had entered the city; Brasidas had raised his eyebrow when she sold them for obviously half of what they were worth but said nothing. It spoke to her true character, one that he knew to be kind and generous. The streets of Athens were just as beautiful as the view from a distance, and he was glad to explore them on foot.

They had passed through the _agora_ of Athens and Brasidas had wanted to stop at every stall as they passed through; never having seen so many wares in one place. But she pushed forward, only breaking to stop at a blacksmith. She had made him trade the lesser quality bits of his mixed armour for better pieces. He had protested when she had ripped away his spear and gotten a javelin made of bronze.

“Nearly close to your old one.” She had told him as they continued down the _agora_. “A little less battle-worn.”

“And less stained with my blood.” He wanted to answer, but he had instead given a meek thank you and followed behind her.

It seemed like at every corner, there was something to admire. Beautiful statues painted in vibrant hues, architecture that could put the Gods to shame; it all sent Brasidas spinning. He trailed behind Kassandra, taking in each new sight with zeal, not realizing he had no idea where they were going. It wasn’t till they passed the steps up to the Parthenon did he ask.

“What exactly are we doing? The port doesn’t seem to be this way.”

She had stopped and pointed over the houses that were before them. “Just in there is the house that once belong to Perikles and Aspasia. It still serves as a place for meetings and symposiums. Some of the greatest minds in this city meet there. And Athens is a city where rumours are plenty and everyone loves to talk. Going there first will be to our benefit.”

She continued walking, and he felt as though he was left with more questions.

“Aspasia? The woman you mentioned being like Persephone. Will she mind us being there?’

Kassandra laughed sharply. “Aspasia disappeared. I don’t know where she is, and she better pray I never find her.”

There was a story there, but he did not press. He just followed behind her. They walked only a little farther, and his eyes stopped focusing on their surroundings, but on her. The light was dying now, setting a low amber glow around them, and it appeared to him as though she was cast in radiance.

He had once thought about telling Kassandra that he loved her. He had told himself after sending a letter to her Athens from Amphipolis, that it would be after the coming battle. But obviously things didn’t come to be.

And now it felt inappropriate to do so.

Before long, they made to the house in question, though he could scarcely call it a house. It seemed grander than the estates belonging to the Kings back in Sparta.

“What sort of place were you living in Kephallonia that _this_ is called just a house.” He had teased her, earning him a quick smile.

“A hovel fit for a God.” She replied, giving a quick nod to the guards that stood by the gateway. The smell of the roasted bird and other things that made his stomach ache with hunger. “It’s still too early for any sort of gathering, I’m sure it’s just a supper.”

Inside, he couldn’t help but think of the home he had grown up in. The main room had one wall that had been painted by his grandmother when his own father had been young. Brasidas had remembered tracing his finger along the little brush strokes, wondering how anyone could be so talented? He felt like a king living in such a wealthy seeming home, but here it was obvious the people who lived here once were truly people of wealth. A statue in the foyer and the rich smell of incense hit his nose in an instant. The rugs that hung from the wall looked so expensive he was sure he could never afford such a thing with all the coins that had ever passed through his hands.

There was chatter from the courtyard and some laughter. It was odd, but he suddenly felt more on edge than he had in their travels. Athens was no place for a Spartan; he could not forget the countless offences committed or the offences Sparta had committed again her. He had been shamed by this city and her generals. His leg hadn’t been the only thing wounded in the Battle of Pylos, but his pride upon hearing what they had done with his shield. Using it along with other weapons to taunt the stranded Spartans, who were little more than hostages at that point. How they eventually did become hostages within these very city walls, along with Kassandra, with Athens threatening Sparta with an execution at every turn. This war had started to end the threat of eventual overlords, and ended with Spartans shamed for even trying. 

This war had ended with his head forced through his own damned spear by an demigod fighting for Athens. He could never forget all of this and he doubt the Athenians could forget either. Who knew what waited for him.

They didn’t move from the foyer. Kassandra seemed to be listening in to the conversation while Brasidas worried away. “I recognize all of those voices.” She eventually said. “Are you ready?”

He really wasn’t. “Of course.”

They made their entrance, stepping past a servant who tried to stop them. Brasidas’ first impression of the Athenians was that really seemed like blue as all but one was dressed in some shade of it. There were four men, one portly, one bald, one aged and one who looked like a cherub in Phoenician purple. It was hard to imagine Kassandra purposefully befriending these men, as they seemed to be the opposite of her in appearance alone. But by the look on her face, she was more than pleased to see them.

“Herodotos!” The joy in her voice brought a smile to his face. He had never heard her so happy to see someone before. It nearly twisted his stomach with jealousy.

The aged one, who he now knew as Herodotos stood up. “Kassandra. You’re a long way from Sparta.” They embraced quickly, his eyes meeting Brasidas’ for a moment. He looked away from Herodotos quickly. The other men congregated around her giving her greetings as well.

“Well met Eagle-Bearer.”

“It is good to see you, Kassandra.”

“I knew you couldn’t stay away for long, Kassie.”

If he didn’t feel out of place before, he sure did now. There was no way he could step in without seeming inconsiderate, so he watched from the sidelines, awed at the happiness that surrounded Kassandra. His consideration meant nothing, when the cherub set eyes on him.

“Oh, I see you brought tribute from Sparta. I always did like my men _big_ and _thick_.” The luxuria in the cherub’s voice dripped like honey and alarmed Brasidas. Or rather it made him bashful as he felt his face warm up. Kassandra’s eyes snapped to the cherub sharply, and her smile suddenly was no longer feeling welcoming.

“I wouldn’t try with him.” Even her voice had become sharp. “Brasidas has no taste for Athenians.”

"One should have a taste before they decide their preferences." The cherub shot him a smile and a wink.

"You would have a better try with Sokrates." She said with a laugh, with earned her a hurt look.

He gave a little nod to Kassandra to thank her; he really didn’t know how he’d handle the attention of the man who he now was assuming was Alkibiades based on her previous stories of the lustful man. He didn’t notice the jolt that seem to run through the other men at the mention of his name.

Herodotos moved away from Kassandra and closer to him. “Brasidas?”

He felt confused by the strange attention on him now. “Yes?”

“As in the General? Or is that relation wrong to assume? The name isn’t a common one.”

He felt stupid for forgetting he had died. If what Kassandra was correct, he must have become a bit of a name in Athens having defeating Kleon so dramatically in Amphipolis. He flexed his right arm in a showy manner, attempting to show off the scarring from Deimos’ blade. “I obtained this at Amphipolis.”

Herodotos’ attention snapped to Kassandra, who was smiling devilishly. “Why are you always involved in the most ridiculous things?”

For the second time, Brasidas had sat quietly beside Kassandra as she explained to the rapturous men the proof that the Gods existed and that they had granted him as a boon to her. And the dilemma they found each other in.

“You’re shocking quietly Sokrates.” She had teased the portly man. “I would assume you would bring up some conundrum about death and rebirth.”

“I’m still digesting.” He responded. “This is a lot.”

He had learned that the other man, the balding one, was Hippokrates. That man also stayed quiet, but his eyes always trained on Brasidas.

“I am curious-” Were Hippokrates first words. “-to know how your wounds healed in Hades. Was it instantaneous or did they heal naturally?”

That earned a laugh from Herodotos. “You learn that life after death exists and you ask the most trivial things. I suppose this is why you are good company.”

"I take that as a compliment."

It made Brasidas recall back on his first experiences in the Underworld. His leg had been stiff since it had healed from Pylos, but the second he stepped in Kharon’s boat he felt nothing. After learning from Alexios that he had been pierced through the head with his own spear (which he thankfully still had no memories of) he had waited for Kassandra to fall asleep to check the soft flesh below his chin for some scarring like on his bicep. He had found nothing but beard in need of a trim.

“I didn't ask Persephone for the particulars.” Was all he said.

He sat quietly as Kassandra explained further what had happened once they had been taken from the Underworld. He didn’t pay attention to what she was saying, but rather thought more on his experience there.

He had been offered the water of Lethe, but he couldn’t take it. He had hoped that maybe Persephone would have allowed him in those days of waiting to meet with some people who had passed during the war. His main wants had been for a soldier who had died in Megaris.

“And I see you. A shine of drachmae placed into a child’s mouth.” The Pythia had said. The memory of it all made him grind his teeth.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t realize Kassandra was trying to get his attention.

“Sorry?” His thoughts burst and was brought back to the present. He almost didn't feel like his surroundings were real, he had been so entranced.

“Herodotos wanted to know if you wanted to go to a party.”

“Yes.” The man smiled politely. “You might be able to get the answers you need there. It is to be a gathering at Metiochos’ new estate and while women are normally not allowed, I know an exception will be made for Kassandra.”

“I saved him from snakes and a murderous plot in my first visit to Athens.” She explained, which made Brasidas laugh.

“I’m sure half the city owes you a favour.”

“Just about.”

“If you are to come,” Alkibiades interrupted, “you will need to dress the part. I do hope you own at least something. Though I'm sure no one would argue if you came dressed in nothing.”

“Clothes can be lent,” Herodotos assured as Brasidas made a face at the lewd suggestion. “How do you feel about it?”

He could answer honestly. “I would be delighted. Especially with the promise of clothes."

-

He thought the imagery of Athena was a bit too much. Dress in teal and red, he felt odd. The pin that held the fabric together on his right shoulder displayed the likeness of Athena, which made him squirm a little. Herodotos had given them to him, saying that they were his to keep if he liked, but he was sure he couldn’t. He had never felt good dressing up like this; the richest he had ever really dressed was in one plain _chiton_ for the second day of _Hyakinthia_. The gift had been thanks to another friend, who had greeted them after the men dispersed. One he had met very briefly before.

“By all the Gods, how are you here?” Barnabas looked near ready to pass out, which had brought laughter to both him and Kassandra. A condensed version of the story had been given to Barnabas who, unlike everyone else, except the story with no questions.

“I always told you, Kassandra, the Gods are watching, and they guide us.” His optimism had been missed. Brasidas had met him on one occasion, in the port of Gytheion as he had prepared his own men for the trip to Pylos. It had been the final goodbye between him and her, with Barnabas interrupting to inform her that the ship was ready to leave. The five minutes Brasidas knew Barnabas had been five delightful ones. The man's attitude was infectious and welcomed.

“Well, these will suit you both well. Our friend here told me to bring some good things to wear. I hope they serve you both well.” Barnabas had smiled, with Kassandra making a face at the turquoise fabric handed to her.

Brasidas had taken his time in the room he had been allowed to use. Spacious and well decorated, it had to be one of the richest rooms he had ever been in. It was also the first time Brasidas had seen a mirror in what felt like years. He had taken the handheld thing and examined below his chin again, trying to see some sort of scarring, but it proved impossible. He instead focused on his own face, which had seemed to age too much. He had been young when this was started, with no crow’s feet or deep laugh lines. Even the scar on his cheek hadn’t been there. A sort of hopelessness formed in his chest, choking him.

Everything was a fight. He had fought for nine long years, trained for two long decades, and even his own childhood before the _agoge_ had been filled with training. And now here he was, far too old, having to fight to keep his life and no spear could be useful now. It seemed impossible, the task before him. And the looming visit to Amphipolis weighed heavily in his mind.

A knock at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He gave the reflection one last good look, thanking whatever God was listening his eyes still seemed the same, and place it down. “Yes?”

The door opened and a wave of blue fabric entered his vision. Her braid had been redone without the cord, making the pleats soft and looser than before. The peplos was beautiful and the beautiful colour suited her well. Kassandra looked stunning and words nearly came tumbling out of his mouth.

“You look good.” She smiled, and his heart ached at such a sight. “Though very gloomy. I wanted to ask you earlier, but are you okay?”

He was going to tell her yes, but she cut him off. “I want an honest answer. You haven’t been alright since the whole ordeal with Hermes. You’ve been quiet, and you are not normally a quiet man. I’m worried.”

He had her worried? He felt guilt at that, and wanted to apologize, but knew she wouldn’t except it.

“I don’t know.” It was honest. He knew what he was feeling, but he was unsure as to how he actually felt. “It’s been… a lot. You have to remember this year hasn’t felt like a year. To me, Amphipolis was not long ago, or Pylos. I’m trying to wrap my head around it and….”

“And?” She stepped forward.

“And-“ He took one too. “-I feel not like myself. I am me. But I am also not.”

They were now close to each other, so much so he could count each little freckle that fell on the bridge of her nose. She was barely shorter than him, a feat that did more than impress him. The stray thought that he could just move his head so and their lips could meet crossed his mind, making him blush.

“I understand.” She whispered, as though to soften what impact they might have. “It takes time.”

“Kassandra. What if we don’t find this woman?” He felt that worry rise in his chest, and to his shame, eyes prick with the threat of tears. “Eternity is a long time-“

Without you, he wanted to say. He wouldn’t have been able to if she hadn’t interrupted him. “Where’s that confident man I adore? I’ll bend the fates to my liking, and I will make sure that when your time comes, it will be of old age. I will make Zeus choke on his smile and after that, you will spend it in Elysium. And I will be there with you. I promise.”

She brought her hand over his bare chest, right over his heart. “And I promise, Brasidas, I will keep this heart beating and full of hope. I never break a promise.”

The heat of her hand, the strength of her words, and the look she gave him was almost too much. He wanted to weep at such a thing but kept it together.

“In return though.” She added. “You have to promise me you will find yourself again. And let me help you if you need it.”

I love you, he wanted to say. Thank you and I love you. But he didn’t.

“Anything. Now let’s get this party over with." He said with a smile. "I liked Athens a little more when it was farther away, and I'm ready to go."

"First thing in the morning." She gave him a soft little smile, one he had never seen on her before.

He really did love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy look at me switching to Brasidas' pov


	8. Chapter 8

“You both clean up well.” Herodotos greeted them as they met in the foyer. He was dressed in Athenian colours of blue and white and seemed far more comfortable in his garb than the Spartans. “You did better this time, dressing in our colours.”

Kassandra laughed at that. “Aspasia apparently picked the clothes out for me before. I’m sure it was all fun for her having me being the only one dressed in blood red.” She looked to him and saw the confused look on his face. “Remember, I went to Perikles’ symposium. To find information about my mother.”

“Right.” He remembered her telling the story when Anthousa had thrown a party after the Monger’s death. They had drunk sweet wine from Samos, and he had been terribly sick the next morning. “Two goats.”

That had been enough to make her snort, with Herodotos shooting them a confused looked. She just waved it off. “Let’s get on with it.”

The streets of Athens were just as beautiful at night, and he almost wished the walk to this party was longer. The city seemed more alive than Sparta ever had. The only city he could compare was perhaps Korinth, but the city had been alive in a different way. From every home, corner and dark alleyway, there was some sign of life, human or animal.

Their destination was a beautiful estate, the smell of incense and flowers hit his nose in a delightful way. It appeared every torch was lit, and there was plenty of chatter within the home. He almost was excited. He wondered at what sort of minds gathered within the walls, and the conversations he could have. Sparta was excellent, but it had been made clear enough far too many times he never thought like one. He had actually been pleased to meet Sokrates earlier, from what he heard from Kassandra, that man was the type of person he’d love to talk to.

“We can’t call you by your name in there.” It was the first time Herodotos had spoken to him. The entire walk, he and Kassandra had caught up on what they had missed when they had parted ways when she last left Athens. He had tuned most of it out.

“Why not?” He was almost offended. His name had been inspired by his mother’s father, and he had been happy with it.

Kassandra nodded her head. “I agree with Herodotos. Brasidas… everyone knows that name as well as they know Kleon, Lysander, or Archidamos.”

“It was quite a thing when the Battle of Amphipolis happened. The news reached here very quickly. So many of our men were killed and word was that Kleon died to the hands of a Thrace _misthos_ though we know the truth.” Herodotos explained, shooting a look to Kassandra. “We were all amazed and angered that only seven Spartan men fell. Many agreed it was a victory to us that we had at least taken down the Spartan General in charge.”

He didn’t know how to reach to that. “Well, I’m glad there was a positive in my death.”

Herodotos backpedalled, apologizing. Kassandra put her hand to his shoulder to stop him, before turning to Brasidas. “It’s a very Spartan name too. The only people I’ve heard with names close to yours are Spartans. Everyone in there knows who I am, and it makes me a novelty. The less you stand out, the less we have to explain.”

“So, what should we call you in there?”

He paused, finding it odd that the second it was required of him to remember at least one name, none would come to mind. There were a few that came to mind, all soldiers he fought aside, but ultimately one made sense.

“Tellis. It’s my father’s name. I couldn’t forget that.”

They seemed to approve of that. “A good name.” Herodotos smiled at him. “Shall we?”

They made their way into grounds, and then into the open courtyard. There were many men, drinking and laughing. Herodotos stopped them for a moment.

“I must take my leave here. There is some business I must attend to. Find me before you leave and I wish you both luck.” And with that, he was gone. He looked to Kassandra.

“How are we going to tackle this?” He looked around at only the small selection of people. There was bound to be more inside, and he felt overwhelmed for a brief moment.

“I feel we must do this how I did this once. There are a few faces I recognize so I will chat them up and somehow bring up our mystery prophet.” Her eyes flickered from one face to another, like a hawk searching for its prey. It sent a chill up his spine seeing her so concentrated. “I would go find Sokrates. I bet all I have on me Aristophanes is here as well. He’ll be the one talking about his impressions and comedic wit. They’ll be a good help.”

She gave him one last look and a quick nod before they parted ways and Brasidas made his way inside.

It was a beautiful home. The murals on the walls, the petals at their feet, and the tapestry that hung all said this was the home of a man of wealth. He felt like a fish out of water, surrounded by things he had never really seen before. He was no stranger to symposiums. He had been to plenty. But this was grander than any he had ever seen.

He probably stuck out like an outsider. He really didn’t care.

“Ah, the handsome gift.” A voice came from behind him, right in his ear causing him to jump. He nearly went grabbing for his spear when he remembered he didn’t have it. He was greeted to the image of a scantily dressed Alkibiades, who eyed him up.

“A pleasure.” He said with a stiff jaw. Brasidas didn’t really know how he felt about this man other than paranoia. Every nerve in his body said that this man couldn’t be trusted.

“Oh, it will be.” He slid up closer to Brasidas and stroked his hand along a scar just below his breast. He stiffened, not out of arousal, but thanks to the urge to break this man’s fingers. He took a step back and eyed him warily. “What a shame Kassie isn’t here. I would have suggested a bit of _fun_. These parties are so dull without a good company. We had quite the fun at the last symposium I attended with her. And so many better moments after.”

He gave him a smile, that felt so insincere. Alkibiades was testing him. It was so obvious. And he wanted to give.

The thought of Kassandra laying with this man had made him feel sick. The images of such a thing crossed his mind, and it pained him. She was her own woman of course, and she could sleep with whoever she wanted, but the thought of her with this _Athenian_ made his insides twist in a horrible way.

How was it this man had gotten a better chance than he had ever gotten. Multiple times.

He gave a smile nonetheless, though he felt like walking away. “You must forgive me, but I don’t have much taste for that sort of thing. You should ask Anthousa. I am aware you two are friends. She would tell you I am an absolute bore.”

He didn’t know if he passed the test Alkibiades had set out, but he had gotten a playful shrug and smile. “What a shame. I’ll go find Kassie then.” And he walked as he walked out into the courtyard. He wanted to run out there before he could reach Kassandra and rip her away.

He hated himself for feeling this way.

Before he could decide what to do with himself, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t jump back like before but turned to be greeted by a friendly face.

“Oh, Sokrates.” Brasidas felt relief wash over him. “How glad I am to see you.”

“I am sure you are the only one here to say that. Come, I have someone for you to meet.”

They moved through the crowd, to an older gentleman. His hair was greying, and he wore his beard cut close to his face. “May I introduce to you, Prodikos of Keos, an esteemed sophist and friend.”

The man smiled at him. “A pleasure to meet you. Sokrates was telling me about two Spartans that came to this city. I assume you are one?”

He gave a quick nod. “Yes. Tellis of Sparta, son of Alkaios.”

It felt weird given his own father’s and grandfather’s name, but he tried not to show it. Sokrates made no show that he was off-put by this new name either.

“I haven’t met many Spartans since the war ended.” Prodikos eyed him up, but it didn’t feel predatory like when Alkibiades did it. There was a gleam in his eyes; visible interest. “You must have fought then?”

He bit his tongue. He had no idea how far he could keep this lie. He decided to stick to half-truths. “Yes. I was at Amphipolis and Pylos. Others were little campaigns and helot revolts.”

Prodikos’ eyes widen at that. “Two hard battles. Sphakteria and Pylos were hard battles for you Spartans. Bad decisions and all.”

He remembered being feverish in bed, demanding to know the outcomes of the battle. He had been one of the lucky ones, and he had hated every second of it. He had mistakenly told his father he’d rather be a held a hostage alongside his soldiers than pampered at home, which had earned him a scolding he had never had before. He also remembered asking multiple times for information on Kassandra and threatening to ride to Athens to save her. That had earned him another scolding. He smiled at the memory.

“We learn lessons from our mistakes.”

Sokrates seemed to perk up at that. “What an interesting idea you have brought up. So, would it be better to lose than win, as we gain more from it?”

A new test, and one he felt more suited for. He smiled. “I suppose it depends on who the person is. Someone inexperienced may learn more from their mistakes than an experienced man. However, victories are great motivators to keep trying. One too many loses dampens passions.”

“So, an experienced man has nothing more to learn.” The look in the Sophist’s eyes was alight. “Would you then say victories are more beneficial to him since he had nothing left to learn?”

“I think we all have something to learn. Even you, Sokrates, could learn from a slave.”

“Our experiences and the evils we face are what shapes us in the end. And we may draw upon many different, and unlikely sources.” Prodikos added in. “And while I would adore the opportunity to talk in circles, I know you asked me to relay some information to our new Spartan friend here.”

“Oh?” He turned back to the other man. “And what information is that?”

“My friend was telling me you had come across a bit of a riddle. Something about a woman?”

He reminded himself to thank Sokrates in vigour later. “Yes. It’s… complicated as to why I need to find her, but she is a woman that ages but never dies. An oracle whose prophecies are never false, but rarely true.”

“Quite the conundrum,” Sokrates added. “I was explaining to Prodikos that this woman sounded like an immortal. We have been both been called atheists and such, but the idea of such a person does not seem out of the world of possibility to me. The world has created far stranger.”

“Yes. And I told Sokrates that this woman sounded close to a rumour I heard. Apparently, a witch of some sort of Mykonos. I do not know if it is the woman you seek, but it may be of some help.”

Mykonos. It was on the way to Makedonia. He made a note to tell Kassandra they needed to detour. “Thank you so much. This is a great help-“

“In return.” Prodikos interrupted him. “I would like to know your real name. Tellis, son of Alkaios was one of seventeen Spartans to swear on the Treaty of Nikias.”

His eyes widened at that. His father had served as an ephor and was a politician in the city considering his leg prevented him from fighting, but to be considered important enough to swear on a treaty? It shocked him.

Even Sokrates seemed to lack words.

“I-“ He couldn’t give the truth. Not here. He gave a quick prayer that he’d be forgiven for his next answer. “Tellis… is my father. I am one of three. Eryalus. I didn’t want to give my true name out in what is enemy territory to me.”

A brother who had died when Brasidas had been far too young to remember. His _mater_ would have been angered at him pretending to be either one of his brothers, but it would have to do. Prodikos seemed surprised by this.

“I didn’t realize Tellis had more than one child.”

He gritted his teeth. “I kept my head low and stayed out of trouble. I should excuse myself now.”

He gave a low bow and left to seek Kassandra with his stomach in knots.

She had been found upon the terrace with two men. He felt his heart tug at the sight of her laughing, holding tight onto the younger of the men. Kassandra saw him after a moment and smiled wider. The flush on her cheeks suggested she had been drinking some.

“Over here!” She waved her hand out. “This is who I was talking about earlier.”

He strode up into the little circle, remembering his encounter with Alkibiades earlier. His face scrunched up involuntarily, as he tried to force those images out of his head, and yet they still burned. She gave him a concerned look, but he just shook his head.

“Another Spartan.” The young man said. “I am almost fearing an invasion.” The man laughed at the expression that must have crossed Brasidas’ face in his chock. “I only joke with you. Spartans are so serious, taking everything at face value. Euripides would agree with me, wouldn’t you?”

The other man, Euripides, gave a quick nod and the young man kept on talking. “I am Aristophanes, playwright and comedic genius-“

“Oh, is that what you are?” Kassandra teased. “I didn’t realize you were supposed to be funny.”

Aristophanes feigned offence, gasping dramatically. “Oh, this one always knows how to wound me. Watch yourself, or you will end up in a play yourself.”

She chuckled at that. “Just promise I get beaten to death with something a little classier than a sausage.”

“Perhaps an _olisbolollix_ would do better?”

Euripides, who had been in the middle of taking a drink from his _kylix_, nearly choked as Aristophanes uttered those words. Kassandra laughed at such a suggestion, but Brasidas could not keep himself from glaring at the poet, which was noticed.

“Ah, come now.” He said, lightheartedly. “Don’t let the rumours be true about Spartans and lacking humour.”

“Speaking of rumours,” Brasidas responded coldly and turned to Kassandra. “I spoke with Sokrates and Prodikos. They have a lead to our little problem.”

“Rumours and problems.” The poet butted in. “Kassandra, you never said anything about this?”

“You never gave me a chance to.” Her tone was courteous, but the smile on his face was strained. “You immediately try to get me drunk and sing along with you. Like before. You are hard to keep on one track.”

“Unpredictability is a good trait to have in my business.” He flashed another smile. “What’s the rumour?”

“We are looking for a woman-“

“Again? Is it a long lost sister this time?”

Kassandra laughed it off. “By the Gods, I don’t need another sibling. No, she isn’t related. She’s an oracle of sorts. Have you heard anything of that?”

Aristophanes looked to Euripides, shrugging his shoulders. Euripides shook his head in return. “Sorry. I haven’t heard anything about an oracle.”

“I have heard talk of a Thracian witch in Makedonia,” Euripides spoke up for the first time. He was almost shocked by it. “But no word of her giving prophecies.”

“Thank you. We set sail for Makedonia tomorrow anyways, I’ll check in on it anyways.” Kassandra said, before turning to Brasidas. “I think we should go now. You can tell me about what Sokrates told you.”

“It was a pleasure meeting you.” Aristophanes held his _kylix _up. “I hope you find what you are looking for.”

-

On the balcony, overlooking Athens, he was oddly reminded of Sparta. Once he had been strong enough to walk, he had often gone to the roof and just watched the people going about their lives. He had felt suffocated in that house, with his _mater_’s disapproval and his _pater_’s concern. Neither of them had entertained his attempts to go back to training or to force his way to gain an audience with the kings. They had shot him down constantly when he had wanted to ride to Athens when he learned Kassandra was being held there. His _mater_ in those days had reminded him constantly that he would have to find a wife soon, and he was lacking in his duty to Sparta.

The roof had been the one place where no one had bothered him. He wondered now how they had reacted to his death. He knew his mother’s words and his father’s role in signing the treaty, but had they mourned him?

_“And I see you. A shine of drachmae placed into a child’s mouth.”_

He played with the bronze fibula on his shoulder, appreciating now the relief of Athena. Maybe he would keep it after all, as Herodotos had suggested. It was beautiful.

“There you are.” A familiar voice came from behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Kassandra dress back into her old _chiton_ with an _oinochoe _held in one hand and cups in another. “Thirsty?”

Warmth spread through his chest and he could not keep the smile off his face. “Of course.”

They stayed like that for a while, quietly looking out over the vast city, drinking the wine slowly. He didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t seem to matter, as in their silence he felt comfortable. Close. Happy.

_“We had quite the fun at the last symposium I attended with her. And so many better moments after.”_

He shuddered as the memory raced back. He looked over to her, taking in her profile, and felt longing. There had been so many chances, so many moments, and yet he never could. She had the worries of all the world on her shoulders then, and he had thought it inappropriate. But it didn’t stop his heart racing then.

Caked in the blood of the Monger’s men and covered in soot. Seeing her in Sparta again with Myrrine none the less. Watching her defend herself before the kings. The amber glow upon her skin from a nearby fire. His eyes refused to leave her at Pylos when they had fought hard to defy all odds. He had tried to get up after Alexios had cut him down, and the last thing he had seen was her charging at her own baby brother.

Each time more radiant than the last. And another moment where he wanted to reach out and kiss her.

He gave his head a shake, failing to rid the thoughts. “Should we head for Mykonos then?” His voice felt thick.

Kassandra hummed, twirling the _kylix_ about. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. I once helped a rebellion on the islands.”

He remembered. She had told the story to him once before. “Yes, I remember you describing ruins to me. And the leader, Kyra.”

She hummed again, reserved and eyes looking far away. It took her a moment before she spoke.

“I fell in love there.”

That was news. He felt again that stab of jealousy and the following guilt that always came. Biting the sides of his tongue, he tried to will it away. “Oh?”

“His name was Thaletas. I don’t…. really care for men. Bedding them? Easy. Liking them? Hard. But he made me feel good, and for a short while I didn’t long for home.” Her faraway stare was sad. He wanted nothing more than to bring his hand out to touch her, comfort her, but he restrained himself.

“What happened?”

She gave a little laugh, looking down at her cup. “He went back to Kyra after he told me he was going back to Sparta. I felt betrayed. I mean they were a couple before, but I thought it was over. A fool I am.”

Kassandra gave a heavy sigh, before looking over to him, eyes dry and a smile on her face. “They’ll still be there, and we will have to see them when we land. It will be more embarrassing then upsetting to see him again. Besides, Persephone told me Phoibe was reborn as a child on that island. A little boy.”

Phoibe. The name conjured up a faded memory of that little girl, all elbows and knees. He had met her briefly, but there was so much of Kassandra in her. Kassandra had told him of her death that last night before his final battle.

“Then we must go. Not for a rumour, or some Spartan punk.” She laughed at that, and it made him smile. “Find a child that was born around the time your Phoibe died, and make sure things are well.”

The thought of rebirth seemed such a magical thing. It made him wonder what had happened to little Eryalus, who’s name he had stolen tonight. Or maybe….

“I wonder what life I would be reborn into.” Kassandra sighed. “I pray the Gods don’t make Spartan again.”

The meaning of those words was enough to make him guffaw, which earned laughter from her as well. “Oh, Gods above I couldn’t agree more. I’d be happy to be some poor farmer next time. I think Sparta is cursed to attract trouble.”

They chatted the night away, any heavy thoughts gone. It wasn’t until he was alone in the room, he had been given did he feel that gnawing jealousy come back. He made short work of the fabric, trying to focus on the monotonous process of unpinning and folding to clear his head.

Laying his head down onto the bed, with the world spinning from the effects of the wine, he fell into an uneasy sleep. He quickly missed the now familiar sound of Kassandra sleeping beside him.

-

“Barnabas said that the Adrestia should be ready within the hour.” Her voice carried over the sounds of the port market. In her hands was a red fruit, a pomegranate. Kassandra made her way over to him, as he sat near the temple of Asklepios, in the shade the canopies offered. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head, which earned him a shrug. Brasidas watched as she sat next to him and removed a small knife from her belt. It was fascinating watching her cut the thick skin systematically, and pull it open as though she had done it a thousand times.

“On Naxos,” She began, as though she read his mind. “There were what felt like thousands of pomegranate trees. I ate at least one a day.”

Ripping one section free, spilling a few loose seeds to the ground, she handed it to him. He wanted to protest, but she shoved it forward. “Eat.”

He took it, fingers brushing hers for a moment, and inspected the fruit. Kassandra didn’t waste a second before diving into the fruit, popping seeds quickly into her mouth.

“It’s funny seeing this after meeting them.” He took six seeds and inspected them. “One for each cycle of the moon. Half here and half there.”

He glanced over to her, seeing her amused smile.

“Perhaps, Kassandra, if I eat this we can argue I have to stay. No matter what.”

She chuckled at that, then shoved the rest of the fruit to him which he nearly dropped. “Then you better eat the entire damn thing.”

He laughed and shoved them, open-palmed, into his mouth. The sweet taste was overwhelming and enough to make him moan.

“Now I am wondering how Persephone only stopped at six.” He flashed a smile to her and was surprised to see blush settled on her cheeks. Before he could ask, a shiver went down his spine in the most unnatural way. Something in him felt as though he was about to be ambushed, as though there was someone standing over him, but when he looked behind him there was nothing. Kassandra nearly mirrored his own actions, and they looked to each other with an understanding.

After a moment, he felt it again, but more concentrated. Towards the temple. He shot her a look which she gave a nod to. Without words, they abandoned the pomegranate and made their way to the large structure, their hands not far from their weapons.

They made their way inside and found it eerily empty. From the corner of his eye, he caught movement, as a figure made its way down the staircase. He drew his spear, falling into a familiar stance. He saw a flash of metal and knew Kassandra was just as prepared. But as quickly as her weapon had been unsheathed, it was drawn away as the figure was in full view.

A woman, youthful yet held a mature air to herself, stood before them, dressed in rich hues of blue and pristine whites. Her _himation_ was decorated in golds and was fastened to her _peplos_ with finely decorated fibulas. Her skin was darker and eyes were a brilliant pale blue. Something about her made him quiver. And then he knew who was before him. A God and obviously the patron of the very city they stood in. 

“Sheath your weapon, General, I am not here to fight.” Her voice was deep and rich. She spoke with elegance. Without a thought, he did as she asked. “My father said we could interfere as we pleased, and I feel now is the time to do so.”

Kassandra gave a short bow. “I couldn’t thank you before, but now I can. Goddess of War and Wisdom, thank you for defending me. I'm sure it was not easy to go against your father.”

Athena smiled, dimples appearing at each corner. “You’ve done a lot for my city. And I will admit, I see no point in my father’s games with my uncles. It was my pleasure. You've caused quite a stir.”

Her eyes then fall onto Brasidas, and there was a looked a curiosity. “And this is the one you decided on? Arguing with the King of Gods for? I will give you credit, he's easy on the eyes.”

Kassandra had told him about her meeting with Zeus, but she had scampered over the details on how. He looked to her and saw once again she was blushing.

“Of course.” Her voice was more subdued than usual, almost bashful. Now he was very curious.

“I love mortals in love. They make such bold and foolish decisions. Or very wise decisions.” Athena smiled at him. “Tell me, how do you enjoy walking the earth once more, General?”

He could answer honestly. “Confusing.”

The smallest laugh escaped from Athena and felt overly proud. Though pride took a back seat. Love? He glanced over to Kassandra, knowing he’d have to get an answer out of her. Hope was building up in him and it was intoxicating. He was almost giddy. He gave a small curse out to Alkibiades for making him worry. 

“I thought I should talk to you about what I found out,” Athena said. “Consider it my last gift to you. I think you are on the right path right now, but you might not find all the answers you need. Or I don't think you will find all you need in that part of the world.”

“Then what?” Brasidas asked. “Do you think it is not worthwhile to go to Mykonos and Makedonia?”

He had hoped that she would tell them there was no reason to go to Makedonia, but she shook her head. “No, I think it is very smart. Apollo has already given you a gift, and you are following it. Trusting your instincts is often the smartest decision.”

Kassandra looked to her confused. “Apollo did?”

“You know well enough the device which the Pythia took prophecies from is destroyed. And you still trusted the Pythia’s words? Apollo is responsible for that. He thought it would be fun to give her a real prophecy for once and play the mortals a little. It was a true thing so do not worry. She actually gave out quite a few good prophecies that day thanks to his intervention. It will be interesting to watch the ripples of that.”

“What should we do then? What is this gift you are giving us?” She asked, seemingly exasperated. He seemed still stuck on the idea that Apollo had given him that nasty prophecy that had been stuck in his mind for days. 

“Head back to Sparta.”

Any thoughts of his own prophecy and past were gone as he suddenly remembered a part of Kassandra’s. ‘_The path you will walk will lead you close to the home you once knew_’ she had said, and Brasidas had shrugged it off with the revelation that they would have to go to Amphipolis. He had thought of Sparta as a faraway land he could never see again, and viewed it with nostalgia, and yet he knew nothing was truly stopping them from going back. Other than the fact they’d have to explain his entire existence. Which didn't seem like an impossible task, just one that meant a headache.

For some reason, the thought of going home filled him with reproach.

“Thank you.” His throat felt tight as he uttered those words. “We shall.”

“Despite what you might think, most of my fellow Olympians do want to see how this will go.” Athena gave him a look over them both. “They guide you in little ways you may not realize. Though I do place all the drachmae in the Parthenon on some of them being more direct. I wish you both luck. You will need it if she gets involved.”

Before he could ask what Athena meant by 'she', there was a short of shimmering quality to her suddenly, like sunlight through silk. Then the Goddess was no longer there.

There stood there in silence for some time, so many things to think over. Eventually, Kassandra spoke.

“The ship should be ready by now.”

He nodded. “Then let’s be on our way.”

As he turned to walk out back into the sunlight, he heard Kassandra sigh loudly. “I really don’t like the Gods.”

"I didn't think she was so bad." His thought fell back onto what Athena mentioned about Kassandra's audience with Zeus. An opportunity was suddenly becoming possible.

**Author's Note:**

> harrygoodsirs.tumblr

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [with longing for a girl](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22123171) by [Cicadaemon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicadaemon/pseuds/Cicadaemon)


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